Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm
by Greened Ink
Summary: Post season 2 finale. Some Peter/Megan- Sort of. Just writing for the sake of it and my sanity after the finale.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I have no idea where this came from, I was just playing around with my thoughts and my writing. So, don't expect much. However, just so you know, I'm more of a Megan/Peter fan.

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One _Hell_ of a Storm: One-

The sound of the gunshot was like thunder, only sharper. Maybe what thunder would sound like if you had been struck by lightening. For one infinitesimal moment, Megan wondered if that wasn't precisely what had happened as the blast reverberated painfully through her skull and the kickback of the weapon shook her hands. Then her mind kicked away the irrational thought and snapped her back to reality.

It was somehow a surprise to her to see the bullet wound blossom on Wilson's shoulder. Based on its positioning, if it didn't hit bone it might even pass through the chest cavity. She might have just killed someone. Even if it _was_ Wilson... she felt like throwing up.

She hissed as her hands went numb, sending a tingling pain up her arms. The gun clattered as it hit the ground, released thanks to her slackened grasp. Shocked, she watched as Peter flipped Wilson over the side. To see Wilson's legs disappear over the ledge, was like missing a step in a staircase. Her stomach dropped and it almost hurt to breath. But Peter... was Peter okay? She stumbled forward a few steps, mindlessly using the doorjamb to keep herself on her feet.

In even slower motion than the rest of it had been, Peter turned around. Her steps faltered as her eyes fell on the Egyptian hook protruding from Peter's abdomen. "Oh my god." She breathed.

Peter's legs folded under him.

"Oh my _god_, Peter!" She rushed to him. "Peter! Come on." Placing her tingling hands under his shoulders, she hauled on his heavy body. Something inside her was screaming at her not to let him lay down. Not to let him fall.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay." Peter got out, voice too strained to make it convincing.

Her hands moved to the wound, but they were still of no use to her, so instead, she clutched him to her. "Peter, come on, it's going to be okay." Her eyes closed on tears. "It's okay, it's okay." Her arms wrapped around him even tighter. "You hear me?"

He didn't answer.

"Peter?" Her voice shook. Fumbling, she reached down and searched his pockets. Yes, she knew it. His cell phone was always in his front pocket. Trying to ignore the pain lacing its way up her arms, she forced her bloodied fingers to dial 911. Peering at the wound, she tried to make an educated guess at exactly what had been hit. The large intestine, pancreas, and stomach were the ones in the most danger. She relaid this over the phone, unsure when the operator had even picked up, but slightly reassured by his voice.

Finally, she pulled out from under Peter. Her knees slid through the growing pool of blood, turning her stomach. It was like being in triage, only worse because it... it was Peter. Her hands were working again, at least well enough to apply pressure. Her hand tore his shirt away from the wound to get a better look. There was too much blood. She tore off her shirt, cursing that it was a gauzy thing that would not be very absorbent, wrapped it around the protruding hook and again applied pressure. "You're going to be okay, do you hear me? You are _not_ going to die. You are not going to die for me!" She knew she was screeching at him, but couldn't stop herself. "Don't you remember what you said? You told me you were done looking out for me." She hung her head, the words stinging even now, when he had so clearly saved her life. "So you can't die. I won't let you. I'm looking forward to not having you prying into my personal life, so hold on! Just..." Tears started silently flowing down her cheeks. "Just hold on."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note- I warned you guys not to expect much. But, since you asked nicely, here's another.

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Two-

-Kate's POV-

Kate checked her watch for what seemed the thousandth time. "Where the _hell_ are they?"

Curtis only shook his head.

"You know Megan, she'll only leave when she's ready to, not before." Ethan shrugged, forking a large bite of bright green cake into his mouth.

"Okay. This is ridiculous." Sam said, approaching their group and speaking under the general babble that permeated Bud's living room. "Where are Megan and Peter? He left to get her almost half an hour ago and things are starting to wind down here. Jeannie's getting concerned. They're gonna have to start unwrapping the gifts or we'll be here past midnight."

"He said he'd be right-" Kate stopped as the phone in her purse vibrated, dinging softly. "Text. From Peter." She said the last with relief as she spotted the name floating in the blue background. Flicking a finger over it, she opened it to read. The text was longer than she expected it to be.

"Any news?" Jeannie asked, not for the first time, coming to stand with their small group. Bud's hand was on the small of her back, offering her a gentle support for her pregnant belly. "Are they coming?"

Everyone looked to Kate, but she didn't pay any attention to them, or to what they were saying. Her eyes darted over the words, trying to make sense of them, but failing.

"Dr. Murphy?" Ethan questioned. "What'd Peter's text say?"

Slowly, her gaze tracked up to his. "From Megan." She corrected. Why did she say that? What the hell did it matter? It wasn't important. But for some reason, it seemed the most glaring irregularity. Something to cling to in the sea of normality around her so that she remembered that there was indeed something very wrong with this picture. "Peter's phone, Megan's text."

"Why is Megan using Peter's phone?" Curtis asked, confused.

All the faces around Kate were confused. She shook her head, swallowed, and cleared her throat. "Peter's been stabbed." Before anyone's shocked expressions could turn to questions, she started speaking, fast and forcefully. "Wilson attacked Megan. Curtis, I want you back at the office to oversee things. Now. Ethan, go with him, we'll need someone to process Wilson's body."

"Wilson's body?" Bud asked.

"Is Megan alright?" Ethan babbled.

She spoke over them. "They're at Penn already, I'm headed over there now-"

"Well, Bud's going with you." Jeannie spoke up. She looked over at her husband with concerned eyes, hand going to his stomach. "Right?"

After a second of indecision, Bud nodded.

"Let's go." Kate said quietly, heading for the door. Bud and Sam followed, while Curtis was trying to keep Ethan walking while he called questions at her back.

Penn Presbyterian Medical Center was only a few blocks from the MEO, and not too far from Bud's house. Yet still, it felt like it took ages to get to there, as though they were moving in slow motion rather than speeding slightly. The building was unassuming from the outside. Red bricked like most of downtown Philly and only about seven stories tall. Yet the difference between rushing up the front walk and standing in the middle of the ER was enough to force Kate to take a small step backward. For just a second, she stood at a loss as to what she needed to do next. The sound of a loud, familiar voice saved her mind from having to come up with a game plan.

"I told you, I'm fine!"

Hurrying over to a drawn curtain, Kate yanked it aside.

Megan Hunt, her subordinate, looked like she was going to start a fire using merely her eyes. She was sitting half-on, half-off of a medical cot as though she had been trying to rise, dressed in a blue hospital gown that was riding up one thigh. A harried-looking nurse was trying to put medical tape over the stitches she had just finished on Megan's hands and glanced at the intruders hopefully. She looked like she would give her next paycheck if someone, maybe anyone, had come to her rescue.

"You can-"

"Megan."

The woman stopped mid-sentence and turned toward them, giving them all a view of the previously obscured left side of her face.

Bud swore.

Kate had to try and suppress her involuntary wince. The side of the ME's face was badly bruised, the slight swelling stretching from the middle of her cheek up past her eyebrow.

"Nice shiner." Sam commented.

When Megan saw them, her expression turned almost as relieved as the nurse's. "Kate, Bud, Sam. Thank god. Please, tell this woman all this is completely unnecessary."

Without speaking, Kate took one of Megan's hands gently to examine it.

"I've got all of the glass out and the stitches done, but now..."

She smiled at the nurse. "Yes, I see, thank you." Reaching down, she picked up the medical tape, cut a piece off and continued where the woman had left off.

"Kate, come on. We've wasted enough time already." Megan said irritably.

"The doctor said you needed a CT scan." The nurse scolded.

"It's a mild concussion at worst. I was only unconscious for a few minutes." Megan tried once again to get out of the bed, but Kate held her hands in place while she worked under the nurses watchful eye.

"What the hell happened, Doc?" Bud asked, eying her hands.

"Is Peter okay?" Sam added.

Even with her eyes glued to her colleagues palms, Kate spotted the fall in Megan's facial features.

"Peter's in surgery." The other ME's voice was so quiet, they could barely hear. "He..." She cleared her throat. "He lost a lot of blood. That's all I know about his condition. For now." She again glared at the nurse. "If I could just go check on him-"

"Megan, you've got six stitches in your hands. Two here, one here, another two... You need to be treated and you of all people should know how important CAT scan's are." The woman opened her mouth to argue but Kate cut her off, even as she applied the last little piece of tape. "Plus, you look like crap and we need a better explanation of what happened. Peter's not going anywhere."

Blinking at her, Megan took her hands back.

"Now-" Kate turned her head, switching her gaze to the large bruise on Megan's exposed thigh. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: You guys want another round? Really? O-kay...you asked for it. *_shrugs._

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Three-

It started to rain during the long night. At first, it was merely a gentle trickle, but over the span of hours, Megan watched as it transformed into a full on tempest. Layer upon layer, sheeting rain slanted out of the heavens, providing a poor welcome for the early morning hours. From where she sat near the large windows looking out on the street, a flickering streetlight let her see see a great deal of it rebounding off the paved road before joining the streams in the gutters hurrying for the sewer grates. It was almost like watching a ballet, with all the movements choreographed, and the tiny droplets held her spellbound. Maybe, if she just kept staring at it long enough, Peter would be held in limbo. Maybe time really wasn't passing, hadn't passed since that prolonged second when Peter had turned toward her, bleeding. Her eyes closed for just a second so she could try and rub the memory from her mind, giving herself a mental admonishment before reopening and latching back onto the rain.

Kate, Bud and Sam were in the waiting room as well, but were all giving her a wide berth. She was grateful, but still wondered idly if her detached way of explaining what had happened had disturbed them. Maybe it was the way she hadn't complained further about getting a CAT scan once Kate had ordered her to listen to the nurse and doctors. Or perhaps it was that she had put on the sweater from Sam's car over the scrubs without complaint after being discharged so that they could get to the waiting room as quickly as possible. Hell, it could even be her silence since they had gotten to this too solemn and closed off room that was keeping them at bay. After telling Bud every detail she could remember, every word spoken, every shudder-inducing touch Wilson had tortured her with as well as that soul-wrenching moment she had fired and Peter had turned to face her, she simply didn't feel like she had any energy left to care.

So she just silently watched the rain fall, not stirring, not speaking, as the dark hours ticked by. Her mind was strangely blank as she waited, void of any but the most superficial thoughts, nothing but the sight of the rain penetrating her solitude. It was beautiful and somehow numbing to stare at the weathers fierce gale, able to forget everything else around her. It was the only thing that kept her fear at bay. The only way she could sit there without being swallowed by the horrible memories hovering on the edges of her consciousness.

She barely batted an eye when Ethan and Curtis arrived, though they both tried to greet her and asked if she was all right. Only the very corner of her mouth lifted for them before she returned her gaze toward the drenched windows. Kate told them, in a low voice, that she might be suffering from shock, as though she couldn't hear over the barely audible murmur that filled the waiting room. She couldn't bring herself to care enough even to raise an objection. Curtis' report on the clean up at the morgue washed over her, not penetrating her fog. It didn't matter that they were already getting someone to replace the broken glass panes of her office and it didn't comfort her to hear from Ethan that the bullet she had fired had ricocheted off Wilson's rib and buried into his shoulder blade. She had still killed him all the same. She hadn't killed anyone since... since her last surgery. Her body shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

Behind her, Sam had joined in the conversation about returning Wilson's body to his daughter and about the media coverage of the entire incident, so she did her best to tune them out completely.

Then Kate started to brief their two colleagues on what she had said about the attack.

Hearing it spoken back, even on only the very edge of her hearing, made Megan nauseous. Leaning closer toward the window, she folded one leg up towards her chest, putting her foot up on the seat so there was soothing pressure applied to her unsteady stomach. It didn't stop her tactile memory from flaring back over her senses. She felt the hook's tip sliding across her cheek again, just below the bone. She remembered Wilson playing with the front of her blouse and just barely brushing the weapon over the flesh at the top of her cleavage. With difficulty, she swallowed back the urge to vomit. Her heart sped up almost painfully as her boss's voice relaid the her efforts to stop Peter from bleeding out on the balcony floor. It was just a trick of her mind, but she would have sworn she could still feel and smell Peter's blood.

Finally, her stomach plummeted and stilled at Kate's succinct report of the doctor's last update on Peter's progress. About the punctured large intestine and nick to his stomach. How the hook had just barely missed the left kidney and pancreas. While the initial part of the surgery to get the bleeding under control had gone well, the damage to the stomach was a delicate procedure to accomplish and a section of Peter's intestine would have to be removed. Megan knew the wound in the large intestine also increased the risk of infection. Increased the risk to Peter's life still hanging in the balance.

Leaning close, she rested her forehead against the cold glass, struggling to breath evenly with her chest aching. The pain had nothing to do with the light bruises on her right side. For once, she really wished she didn't know all that she did. Would it be better to be stuck here waiting on word, or to know the odds, as she did? She had to believe it was easier to hope when you didn't have so much medical knowledge at your fingertips. Maybe Bud and Sam could lend her some.

Her breath fogged the glass enough that it obscured the ghost-like reflection of her own face. Without thinking, she pulled her sleeve over her hand, ignored the stinging pain of her cuts and wiped away the condensation. Her reflection came back warped. Fitting.

A part of her realized the others were worried about her. Now that they had finished talking, they had dispersed around the room to sit and wait it out. Each of them cast uncertain, wary looks her way at regular intervals. Curtis and Ethan followed the others lead on leaving her alone.

It was almost six in the morning, but still dark outside with the clouds blocking out the morning sunlight, when the doctor entered. She was on her feet before anyone else saw him, rushing to stand in front of him. "Peter?"


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: You guys are sweet.

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Four-

Bud's POV-

Bud was right behind her, only a step separating them, but he secretly thought Megan Hunt might as well have been alone for all the attention she was paying to him or anyone else they encountered. He was used to the soft thunk of her heels and was disoriented by the almost silent way she glided along in the hospitals thick, tread-lined socks she was wearing. Her legs kept a steady pace though, in perfect timing with his. She even slowed when he was blocked by a busy nurse and waited for him to catch up before matching his stride again. Despite this, she still felt... absent, almost. Like at least a part of her was closed off to him and to the rest of the world. Though they were walking together down the hospital hallway, he felt like an afterthought, like something that had been pasted on to fill a gap in the roster. He supposed he was. Sam had opted to go in first with Dr. Murphy so that she and the chief ME could leave to file reports and brief their superiors. Ethan and Dr. Brumfield were practically attached at the hip, so he had been scheduled to go in last with Dr. Hunt.

The others had gotten off easy.

They stopped abruptly in front of an open door. Bud looked from her to the rooms number and back again uncertainly as she just stood there for a moment. Noting her squared shoulders, he felt an odd disquiet steal over him. He raised his hand, stilled just short of touching her, and dropped it to his side again. As had been true for the past several hours, he wanted to reach out to her somehow. All of them had wanted to so _something_ for her. To show their support somehow. They knew she had been through something traumatic. Her careful report had been too anesthetized for them to grasp exactly what her reaction to everything had been, but he hadn't needed Jeannie scolding him over the phone to be sure to take care of the ME. In fact, hearing her tired voice on the other end of the line at one in the morning telling him all the things he needed to do, all the ways he needed to help Megan was the last thing he had needed. He_ knew_ he should do something. He _wanted_ to help Megan. It was just the how that was lacking.

There seemed to be a gulf between her and the rest of the team. Kate and Curtis had both noted this to him in a undertone but he hadn't needed them pointing it out any more than he needed Jeannie's admonishments. It had been plain as day that she was pulling away from them, but to be honest, he simply had no idea how to understand what she had endured or what he could do. Of course, as a cop, he had held his share of bleeding colleagues together while they waited for an ambulance. He had even lost some good friends that way, but he always had his training at his disposal. Knowledge of how to defend himself. And he had never had some psychotic serial killer threaten to dig his brain out through his nose while he was still alive.

His gaze drifted back up to her face. Had that been her first time shooting someone? He was fairly certain it was. So he could add that to the list of trauma's she had suffered today. Yesterday now, he supposed. Right underneath the bruises, the cuts, the Egyptian hook, and her partner laying in a hospital bed. Great.

He rubbed a hand over his balding scalp and almost missed it when she started to move forward. The door swung the rest of the way open silently, revealing only the sound of steadily beeping machines. Her hand shook as she grasped the cloth curtain gently and pulled it aside with a soft shh-hing sound.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Sorry to leave you hanging there, it wasn't intentional. That was just where the break needed to be. So I decided to hurry and write another one for you. Express your appreciation, if you feel like it. ;)

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Five-

The steady beeping was like a solid tether, anchoring her heart to the world again. Which was a good thing because in that moment, she needed it more than she needed oxygen to breath.

He was so still.

She almost sobbed, gasping air into her lungs unsteadily as she looked at the heart monitor to the right of the bed, the machine's arching line the only proof that life still flowed sluggishly through Peter's veins. Returning her eyes from the little blinking lights on the screens, along the wires and tubes back to his haggard face, she still almost didn't believe the evidence.

He was so pale.

Stumbling, her feet carried her as far as the chair on the closest side of the bed before she collapsed. Her fingers fumbled for a moment, but eventually closed around his left arm to feel the pulse in his wrist for herself. It was there. She closed her eyes and felt the steady thrum against her flesh, completely loosing herself in the relief that flooded her soul.

He was alive.

Opening her eyes, she blinked the gathering liquid back and lifted one of her hands to touch the side of his face with a gentleness that surprised even her. There was a just a touch more scruff on his cheeks than she had ever seen before, much less felt, but there were only a handful of scratches from the broken glass to denote what he had been through. What he had done for her. Only the paleness of his skin to tell her he wasn't simply sleeping. A whimper almost escaped her lips when she finally saw his chest gently rise up and slowly fall back down.

He was breathing.

She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound and swallow down her emotions then quickly returned her hand to his as Bud looked over at her from the other side of the hospital bed. To cover her reaction, she reached out shakily for Peter's chart. After giving it a once over to verify the doctor's prognosis, she turned to look him over more critically from head to foot. Nothing seemed amiss between the two, so she replaced the clipboard, then grabbed Peter's hand again to have something to do with her own. Her chest ached as she gazed at him.

He just looked so... helpless. That wasn't her Peter. Peter was never helpless, he always knew what to do, especially when she didn't. She had never even _seen_ him helpless until Danny had...

Clearing her throat she gave her head a small shake and finally realized as her vision panned across the room, that Bud was staring at her, so she glared fiercely down at the fingers clasped against hers. There was a small, empty pause as she thought maybe the detective hadn't noticed anything, so she started slightly in surprise when he finally spoke.

"He's going to be okay."

She looked up to meet Bud's gaze, seeing the concern floating there. It irrationally angered her, because she knew some of that concern was for her and there should be nothing further from his mind than her well being. She had caused this. It was Peter that needed them right now, not her.

"The doctor said the surgery went well. He's pumped full of antibiotics. He'll be alright." Bud was just repeating what the doctor had told them. He was trying to be comforting.

She tried to keep her face completely blank so that he wouldn't know it wasn't working. It was a relief when a nurse stuck her head inside the room, black hair swaying slightly.

"Detective Morris? There are people out here wanting to speak with you."

Slowly, Bud nodded and backed away from the bed.

Only when Megan was sure he was gone, sure that she was alone, did she return her gaze to Peter's face.

Oh god.

With an iron will that got her into trouble more often than not, she tamped down the urge to cry, trying to ignore the flush rising onto her cheeks and the pricking in her eyes and nose. Instead, she took a deep open mouthed breath and started to speak in a quiet whisper to keep her tears at bay, trying to smile despite how she felt. "Why?" The sound was barely audible. "Why did you come looking for me? Why didn't you just... stop looking out for me, like you said you were going to?" Her hands gripped his harder and harder till her knuckles turned white.

There's was no answer. No response other than the beeping of his heartbeat.

Shaking her head vehemently, she tilted her face back toward him, unable to stop looking at him for long, and tried to ignore the one tear that escaped her control to slide down her cheek into the crease of her mouth. She made her grip relax before forging on ahead. "Here's the thing about apologies... they-" She huffed a laugh. "-they don't come naturally to me." She swallowed the lump in her throat with difficulty. "I... really am fortunate that it's not more necessary. You'd be surprise how much people who care about you are willing to overlook. As long as they get the sense that you're sorry, it's not often that the words actually have to pass your lips. Not often at all. But..." Megan gripped his hand harder again.

It twitched.

She looked at the limb and back up at Peter and down again, but the limb had stilled. Slowly, she leaned down and put her cheek against his arm, her forehead resting lightly on his chest. "I'm sorry. So sorry." Another tear escaped and burned a path down onto his arm. Her voice shook. "Peter. I am so very sorry."

"Mmnn?"

She looked up, startled.

"M-gan?" Peter's lips fumbled and murmured, but he was trying to say her name, she knew it. His eyes cracked open.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, there was a loud cry from doorway.

"Oh god, Peter!"

"Peter!"

His sisters. Of course. They would have been the first informed about what happened. She stood and stepped back hurriedly. His family was here and she had taken enough of his time as it was. She tried to slink away from the bed as the three women crowded around.

"Oh-" The eldest, named Libby if Megan remembered right, spared her a distracted look. "Dr. uh- Megan, right? Y-you don't have to leave." She was obviously torn between being polite and the all-consuming concern for her brother.

"N-no. It's fine really." She backed away from them. "I- should go anyway. I've got things... and there's only supposed to be one or two people allowed in the ICU at a time. So I-" She gestured hastily at the door. "I'll just go and see you- ah, later."

Libby didn't even answer as she tried to make her escape.

"Muh-gan."

She heard Peter's voice one last time. His blessed voice speaking her name, and her footsteps faltered, but only for a second. Clutching to what little control she had left, she all but ran from the room. The second she was out the door, she started taking deep breaths to slow her panicked heartbeat down. If she didn't, she was going to pass out. She walked fast, to put as much distance as possible between her and the man she had put in that hospital bed. Her hand moved up to capture the sobs leaking out of her lips. It was all her fault.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I'm glad you guys are liking it. I'll keep going, because you all asked so nicely. Seems flattery will get you everywhere. ;)

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

-Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Six-

_Peter's Dream-_

_ Concerned, Peter glanced at his watch again, it's face swimming before him so much he couldn't actually tell the time. He looked around at the too large balloons and other party decorations, the tempo of his heartbeat rising steadily to pound its way into his eardrums. Where was Megan? This wasn't like her. She would at least call if she got stuck somewhere. Had there been an accident? He cursed. Why wasn't she here yet?_

_ "Where is she?" Kate asked, scowling his way. "Where's Megan, Peter?"_

_ Suddenly, everyone was looking at him, demanding an answer. He took a step back. "I don't-"_

_ "Why isn't she here?" Ethan asked accusingly._

_ "What did you say to her?" Jeannie, with a squalling infant in her arms, was glaring at him._

_ "I-" Another step back, but the room seemed to be getting smaller as everyone crowded around him. Panic reached icy claws through his lungs, making it harder to breath. What had he done? He had said he was done with her, done with looking out for her. Was that why she wasn't here? His foot caught and he stumbled, but arms caught him from behind. Everyone else vanished. He looked up into a familiar face that almost broke his heart._

_ "What did you do?" Dani asked him sadly, helping him to get back on his feet and holding him steady. "Was it because you miss me? You got angry and spiteful, even though you knew she was just panicking over the threat to Lacey, because you're hurting?" Her eyes conveyed a hurt look of betrayal and disappointment._

_ "I never meant-" Oh god. Was it his fault? Did he do this? "Where is Megan? Do you know? Can you help me find her?"_

_ Dani shook her head._

_ "Megan is mine." Wilson Polly's voice hissed, echoing around the suddenly dark and empty room._

_ Peter spun on the spot, frantically looking for the source. "No! She's not. Where is she? What have you done with her?"_

_ There was a cackle. "Little little Doctor caught in a tree, little little doctor can't escape me!"_

_ "You sick psychopath! Where the hell is she?" He jerked to a stop in his spinning. There. He could see Megan through the doorway, duct-taped to a chair. When his hand automatically reached for his gun, all he found was an empty holster. Tearing it from his belt, he threw it away in disgust without pausing to look at it. As he stepped through the threshold toward her, he realized Megan's head was flung back, normally reddish brown hair dark with blood and more running slowly from her nose onto the curve of her cheek._

_ "No. Megan!" He crashed toward her, desperately grabbing her head so that it lolled onto his shoulder. "No, no, no! Please, no!" He clutched her to him._

_ "Got her." Polly's voice sang out, taunting him. _

_ "Polly! You son of a-"_

_ "Why didn't you just...stop looking out for me?" Megan's distant voice echoed over Wilson Polly's laughter._

_ He looked down again and Megan had vanished from his arms, only her blood soaking the front of his shirt to speak of her ever being there. The chair was gone too. In fact, the room was completely empty. Then, even the walls started to bleed out of existence. He felt something squeeze his hand, but it was empty when he looked down at it._

_ "It's not often that the words actually have to pass your lips."_

_ He turned again and there she was, standing there in those beautiful red scrubs that matched her lipstick and brought out the color in her cheeks. Her skin was pale and void of the dark splotches of blood. Slowly, he lifted his hand, trying to grab hold of her, but no matter how hard he strained, he couldn't reach her._

_ "Peter. I am so very sorry." She looked like she was about to cry._

_ "Megan. No, it was me, I shouldn't have- I never meant-" He felt an odd weight settling on his torso, making it hard to breath. A tingling filled his limbs and his vision began to darken. "I was just angry. If I hadn't-" He faltered, stumbling to his knees. "Polly never should have gotten to you. It was my fault. If anything ever happened to you-" He was falling. "Megan."_

-Peter's POV-

His eyes cracked open, immediately flinching away from the blinding light that was like lightening on his cornea's. It scorched strange trails to match over his vision, so that even with his eyes closed it could follow him. He was flooded with new sensations as he groggily woke up. It felt like he was moving, even though he knew he was still. He was going to throw up. His abdomen ached dully and his head didn't feel any better. In a detached sort of way, he felt positively dreadful.

"Oh god, Peter!"

"Peter!"

His sisters. He blinked slowly, trying to get a good look at them. What were they doing here? Where in the world _was_ 'here'?

Diane and Nancy rushed to his side, one grabbing his hand and the other leaning in to kiss his forehead, both murmuring soft words of concern.

He tried not to let it show that even that small movement made him feel twice as nauseous.

Libby seemed to be speaking to someone out of his line of sight. He tried to raise up a little to have a look, but his head just lulled to the side awkwardly. Then, he heard her voice.

"N-no. It's fine really. I- should go anyway. I've got things... and there's only supposed to be one or two people allowed in the ICU at a time. So I-I'll just go and see you- ah, later."

"Muh-gan." What was wrong with his tongue? It was as though it wasn't a part of his body at all, swollen and useless. On top of that, his mouth felt like it was full of hair and stinging nettles. He groaned. Had Megan heard him? Was she leaving? He tried to reach out, as he had in what he now knew to be a dream, but his limb was too weak and Libby just grabbed it and clutched it in hers.

"Peter. We were so worried about you."

"When they called us-" Diane choked.

Regret surged through him. He hated when they had to worry about him. But his mind slipped back to Megan uncontrollably. He was happy to see his sisters, he really was, but was Megan all right? Had she gotten hurt? Had Polly- His eyes closed again. Where had she gone?


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Seven-

Joan Hunt's POV-

"Yes, I understand. Thank you." Joan clicked her cell phone off and stared at it for a moment. She felt the familiar panic gripping her chest, sinking it's way to her outer extremities. Her body felt weak and her hand began to shake. She was helpless. In a fit of frustration, she flung the phone from her hand as hard as she could, watching as it rebounded off the couch cushions and fell to the floor. On impact, it cracked open and spilled its battery and equal halves across the hard wood. Dammit. She swallowed and blew out a calming breath, raking a hand through her hair. Slowly, she walked over to the pieces and crouched down to pick them up. Her trembling fingers replaced the battery in its sheath and closed it up. The screen lit up. At least it still worked.

She jumped in surprise when it rang in her hand, causing her to lose her balance and sit heavily. Trying to calm her hammering heart, she rolled her eyes as she twisted up onto her knees while answering it. "Hunt."

"Hey Mrs. Hunt, its me again."

Recognizing the voice, she felt a surge of relief, stumbling her way back up onto her feet. "Detective Morris. Any news?"

"None so far. She hasn't shown up there?"

Joan sighed. "Not as of yet."

The man cursed on the other side of the line. "If I'd known she was going to pull a disappearing act, I would have run after her. I just thought she needed a minute when she ran past me at the hospital."

"I know, Detective." She sighed, making her way back to the kitchen island to sit. Her daughter's apartment seemed so empty without Megan or Lacey in it. She'd only bothered to turn on one light, so most of it was still in darkness. It was hollow.

There was a sudden sound at the door. She was on her feet in a second, moving toward it. More rattling issued from the lock as it slowly moved. Someone with a key was unlocking it. Grabbing the doorknob, Joan pulled it open, mouth open to say Megan's name. Instead, she stopped short.

"Grandma." Lacey looked up at her, tears in her eyes and hair plastered to her face by the rain.

"Oh sweetheart." She took her granddaughter into her arms and pulled her inside the apartment. Her arms clutched the child fiercely, holding her like she was a lifeline.

"She wouldn't take no for an answer." Todd said, still out in the hallway. "Is... is Megan okay?"

"Mm, she's uh- not home yet." Joan answered, burying her face in Lacey's hair and laying a quick kiss to the top of the girl's head.

"Please. Can I stay here with you till she gets home?" Lacey asked. She lifted her head and looked up pleadingly. "I have to see her. I have to know she's okay. Dad said she was at the hospital?"

"You're mother is _fine,_ Lacey." Joan framed the girl's face with her hands. "The doctors checked her out and released her almost immediately."

"Then why isn't she here yet?" Lacey asked fiercely. She silently started to cry, tears slipping down her cheeks. Joan had to take a small step backward to keep her balance as her granddaughter buried her face in her chest again.

"She's been like this for the past hour, ever since I told her what Kate said to me." Todd said helplessly, gesturing at Lacey's shaking shoulders. "I don't-"

"It's okay. She can stay here with me and that way she'll get to see her mother when she gets home." She didn't mention that she had no idea when that would be, since Megan had disappeared from the hospital, but it didn't seem necessary.

Looking exhausted, Todd just nodded. "Have Megan call me when she gets a chance, okay?"

Nodding, she closed the door as Todd walked away and half carried Lacey over to the couch. The girl was chilled, so she took the throw blanket off the corner of the couch and threw it over her as they sat. "It's okay baby. She'll be home soon. You'll see."


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note- Huh, lost my thread. Give me some feedback so I can know if I got it back. I think I did, there near the end.

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Eight-

The wet wood under her hands was cracking with age and covered in lichen and moss. Water droplets spilled from her fingertips and Megan had to blink away more that was pouring into her eyes. After escaping the hospital out into the rain hadn't proven to be enough, she had just started walking, despite the fact that she wasn't actually wearing any shoes. There was no way to know how long she had been walking in the downpour, she just knew it was dark and she was soaked. Frankly, she didn't really want to think about how awful she must look or how cold she was. Instead, she focused on the wood under her palms, trying not to hit her stitches.

Now that she was actually looking around her, she realized she didn't even know quite _where_ she was. Some run down old neighborhood still near downtown. A tall red building with peeling paint and an ancient wooden fence crossing the front. Running her hands over slats as she passed was filling her with an odd sense of peace. One she had been searching for since leaving the hospital. Slowly, she rocked to a halt, examining what it was about this fence that was effecting her. The wood reminded her of her father's work shed in the backyard of their townhouse when she was growing up. A place she wished she could retreat to now, though she didn't know why she was suddenly feeling this way. It had been many years since she had dared to go anywhere near it and anyway, she didn't have the right key anymore. The locks had been changed long ago. So this fence would have to do. She reflected that it had been a good idea to give Lacey a key to her apartment two years ago. Not just because her daughter stayed there more often now, but because it was something like what her father had done for her all those years ago. A connection, however frail. She stayed there, in the pouring rain, clinging to the wood as long as she dared hold still but finally had to move on or risk hypothermia at the rate her body temperature was deteriorating. Peter had been right.

Shaking her head, Megan scolded herself. Of course Peter had been right. He usually was when it came to things like this. Unfortunately, that only made her feel worse for verbally attacking him without even knowing what it was he had said. Hearing from Lacey that Peter was involved had simply felt like a betrayal. With Wilson's threats, not being able to find her daughter and hearing that Peter was somehow involved, she had let her mouth run away with her. The things he had said to Lacey were probably his usual. Encouraging, sensitive, caring. Designed to make her daughter happy. Much like his advice to her always was. She felt like a jerk, especially because he had come back for her. Had saved her.

She wanted to speak to him, to ask his advice. What would he tell her to do right now, she wondered, putting her freezing hands into the sleeves of her heavy, sodden sweater. Probably to get out of the rain and change her clothes. Get warm before she caught a cold. She could almost here him suggesting such things in her head. A safe place, somewhere she could go for comfort. A place that had become her sanctuary. Normally, that would have described her work environment, but that was the kind of sanctuary her workspace couldn't be right now. Not after everything that had happened there. So... where was she happiest, when she wasn't working? Megan was surprised by the answer to her own question and started to jog towards her destination. She never would have believed it possible just a few short years ago. There was only one place she _could_ go. Home.

-0-

The dark, cavernous stairwell echoed the sound of her staggered breathing back at her. Completely exhausted, Megan sunk to her knees on the small landing, head bowed, just for a minute to catch her breath. Water dribbled down from her wet hair to pool on the tile in front of her face.

It was still raining rather heavily outside, and she didn't even _know_ how long she had been running through it. Or how she had found her way. She felt soaked through to her very bones, the scrubs and sweater hanging limply and heavily on her frame. Every breath brought with it pain from the stitch in her side and an answering throb from her feet. She wasn't used to running barefoot and running in socks, however thick, wasn't much different. Her arms were shaking, shivering from a combination of the penetrating chill and her exhaustion. Slowly, she reached out, caught the handrail and hauled herself back up to her feet. She climbed the last few stairs shakily, dragging her body up mostly using the handrail, even though it was slick with rainwater from her freezing cold fingers.

Finally, she reached the next level and staggered through the door and down the hallway. Upon reaching her door, she paused. Her keys. She didn't have them. They were probably still in her purse at the MEO, sitting near her desk where she had dropped it when Wilson had shown his face.

She couldn't help it. Tilting her head back, she laughed out loud, letting a tear track through the rainwater on her face. Great. She had run all the way here and now, she couldn't even get into her own apartment. Her head fell forward to lean against the door. Just as she was about to give up and sit on the floor, the wood in front of her vanished inward. She stumbled slightly, looking in at her mother in surprise.

"Thank god." Joan breathed, reaching out and hugging around her shoulders.

All she could do was hang limply in the woman's arms "Mom?" She got out, confused. "What are you doing here?"

Her mother pulled back, looking her up and down in concern and with the familiar edge of fury. "Where the hell do you think I'd be?" She pulled her in the rest of the way and shut the door of the apartment behind them. Her tone was kept at a fierce whisper, making Megan wonder exactly how late it really was. "Doctor Murphy calls me, telling me she's just making a notification about some dead serial killer because she thought you were with me or at least had called me- but of course that's ridiculous, why in the world would you call your own mother to tell her what happened? It's not like I have a right to know when my daughter ends up in the hospital."

"Mom, please, can we not do this right now?" Megan pleaded in exasperation, shedding the dirty, wet socks near the door. The heavy sweater followed suit as her mother practically tore it off her.

Joan simply carried on as if she hadn't spoken at all, merely wrinkling her nose at the soaked garment as she also helped relieve her of the sodden shirt. "Then a detective calls me, asking if I know where my daughter is- If I've seen her since she left the hospital. That staying put is the best course of action- of all the idiotic-" She stopped, seeming to have realized Megan was no longer paying any attention to her.

Taking a hesitant step into the living room, Megan questioned if maybe she had fallen asleep. Hardly daring to breath, she trod silently over to the couch where her daughter lay, face serene in deep sleep. Her little girl. Her Lacey.

"Todd dropped her off." Her mother said, voice quiet. "She was scared and worried. Insisted on coming here to wait for you."

Softly, Megan reached out and brushed Lacey's hair back from her face.

"Megan, where have you been?"

Finally taking her eyes from her daughter, Megan turned them on her mother. Was her mother going to cry? She looked on the verge, which frightened Megan even more. She hadn't seen her mother actually shed those tears in a long time and didn't think she could handle it right now. "I'm fine, Mom. I just... needed to take a walk." She turned back to Lacey. "How long has she been here?"

"About four hours. She tried to stay awake-"

"But it's been a stressful week for everybody." Slowly, Megan shook her daughter's shoulder. "Lacey? Hey, come on sweetheart. Time to get to bed." She sat the girl up but was surprised when Lacey's arms closed around her neck.

"Mom." Lacey's voice was muffled with sleep but still shaky.

"I'm here, Lace. I'm here." She put her arms under Lacey's shoulders and squeezed tight. "I'm okay. Come on, let's get you in bed." Carefully, she lifted the girl to her feet and together with her own mother practically carried her to her room. She got Lacey into her bed and safely tucked under the covers before collapsing on the edge of the mattress beside her.

There was a moment of silence as Joan watched her. Then- "Your pants are all wet."

Megan just snorted.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note- Alright, alright. Wow, with the prodding. :) I warned you guys not to have expectations. That included update speed. But, you asked so nicely... Oh, for those of you waiting on a Megan/Peter scene/chapter, you'll be waiting a bit longer. Megan is as stubborn as my thoughts are.

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Nine-

Peter's POV-

"Seriously, Diane, knock it off." Peter groused at his tallest sister, who was fussing with his pillows for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning.

"I'm just trying to make sure you're comfortable." She pouted, sitting back in her chair.

"The pain killers are doing a nice job of that, thanks." He closed his eyes, leaning back into the pillows to take the stress off his abdomen. Every time he had to move, he had to press against the healing wound, just like his nurse had instructed. That didn't keep him from feeling nauseous, just from tearing his stitches. So he used what little strength he had to swallow the impulse to throw up. The painkillers were doing a bit more than keeping him comfortable and making him sick though. They were also making him incredibly tired, despite the fact that he had already been asleep for a very long time. "Why don't you go get some breakfast or something?"

"Libby said I'm not supposed to leave your side."

He rolled his eyes. "Libby is also pretty sure she runs the universe."

Diane tried to hide a smile by shaking her head disapprovingly.

"I'm not in the ICU anymore." He sighed, gesturing around at the hospital room's ugly yellow walls that he had been surrounded by since the previous night. "I'm not gonna die while you got get an egg sandwich or something. I mean, Libby didn't leave this room _all night_ and you saw how that turned out." Oh yeah, that was definitely a smile, however much she tried to cover it up by burying her face in her hand. After spending the night in a chair beside him, his eldest sister had looked completely ridiculous. Only the though of making his injury worse had kept him from outright laughing at her disheveled appearance.

Clearly waffling on the brink of her decision, Diane just shook her head again and leaned forward to grip his arm. "I guess I just feel bad. Going to get something to eat when you can't... well-"

"Eat? It's okay Di, really. I'm not even hungry." He grabbed one of the tubes running into the back of his hand and shook it gently. "I've got an IV." He then picked up his cup from the swiveling table before him. "And plenty of ice chips. Tasty goodness." He waggled his eyebrows at her good-naturedly.

It was her turn to roll her eyes, standing and grabbing up her purse. "Alright. I'll get out of your hair, but just for an hour." She leaned forward, smoothed the hair from his brow and gave him a quick kiss on the exposed space. "I'll be back."

"See ya." When the door closed behind her at last, he let out a relieved breath and simply enjoyed the feeling of being alone for a moment. His privacy had completely gone out the window since he'd been brought here. He took another deep breath, then started to look around, searching. He spotted the blue hospital bag of his belongings sitting on the end table near his bed. Shifting carefully, he stretched out his hand and strained to reach it. Finally catching the edge of the bag, he tried not to cry out as he pulled it to his side. It wasn't that it was that heavy, but even the simple motion brought with it a rolling sense of pain from his stomach. Grimacing, he leaned back, one hand seeking the morphine button to give himself another dose. He praised the person that had come up with the patient administered morphine drip. After it took effect, the sliding numbness stealing over his body, he started rifling through the contents of his prize. His bloody shirt and pants from the night of the attack were carelessly tossed aside, useless as they were now. His jacket followed, though it might be salvageable at some point.

He smiled. There, at the bottom of the bag was what he had been searching for. His cell phone was covered in dried blood like the rest of his things, but to see it in the pattern of Megan's smaller fingerprints made him have to pause to take a shaky, steadying breath. He slipped it open, ignored the gathered blood over the 1 and 9 keys, and checked his messages.

There were several from Kate the day of Polly's attack. Another two from Sam at around the same time. Below that was one from each of his sister's phones. Just one, as though they were making sure he wasn't going to answer. Then, nothing.

Trying not to feel disappointed, he dropped the thing in his lap and turned to look out at the rain. Only one thought was rolling through his head and he whispered it aloud into the silence. "Where are you, Megan?"


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note- Subtle, aren't ya? ;) Thanks for being so patient with me. I've been having a little difficulty connecting point A and point B, but I'll try to do better.

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Ten-

Joan's POV-

Joan Hunt stood at the kitchen island, hands to either side propping herself up and head hung slightly in between. She was trying desperately to get her emotions away from the ragged panic they had been bordering all night, ever since Megan had walked through the door looking more like a drowned mouse than her fiery-tempered daughter.

Though Detective Morris and Dr. Murphy had told her a little bit about what she could expect, it had been more difficult than she could have imagined to see Megan so battered as she had helped to peel the rest of the water-logged clothes off her. The bruises made her furious, the cuts made her nauseous. She had immediately steered her shivering body into the shower and her panic had almost overwhelmed her when Megan had gone without so much as a single protest.

Her eyes tracked over to her water soaked sleeve, mind traveling back to the moment she had tried to help her daughter out of said shower. The look of panic that had briefly crossed her features would haunt Joan's dreams for a long time, even though the younger woman had immediately calmed. Unfortunately, Megan had refused to discuss what had happened or her reactions, pulled away from her, and shut herself away. All of Joan's questions went unanswered. Finally, as Megan plead exhaustion, Joan had been completely helpless to do anything to protest. All she could do was step from the room as asked.

Switching her gaze toward the closed door once again, she swallowed. As the night had passed slowly, she had fought the desire to go back inside or to even peek. Much to her shame, curiosity gnawed at her, mixing with her worry so they were almost indistinguishable from each other. What had that- what had the detective called him? Wilson something?- done to her little girl? What exactly was the damage? She fidgeted. It was becoming too much to bear and concentrating on her breathing wasn't helping.

To hell with it.

Slowly, she meandered over to her daughter's bedroom door and quietly opened it. It was early morning, the sun just barely peeking it's rays into the room. Simply seeing her daughter's sleeping form almost made her faint with relief. Megan was laid out on her stomach over the covers on one side of the bed, pajama bottoms riding up her calves and bunched up as though she had been tossing and turning. Her bare shoulder blocked her face from view, but her back was visibly rising and falling in a slightly uneven rhythm. Her arms were splayed about, one curled up near her head and the other hanging off the side of the bed.

Before her own logic could stop her forward momentum, Joan made her way to the unoccupied side of the bed and sat. She felt so useless, looking at her daughter. Careful not to wake Megan, she reached over, brushing some of the unruly hair away from her face. There was a crease in the middle of her daughter's brow, as though she was having a bad dream. From what little Joan knew, that didn't surprise her. So she gripped her daughter's hand hard and tried to sooth her, thinking that she hadn't been this scared since Megan's accident. When Megan's father had died, she had coped by being overprotective. The accident had driven home the painful reminder that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't protect her daughter from life and here she was again, with nothing she could do. No way to sooth the hurt. She looked down at her daughter's hand in hers, the small stitches dark against the pale skin. It looked so small, slack in sleep. So frail. Blinking back tears, she gently kissed the deft fingers and then slid away, hurrying out of the room before her crying could disturb her daughter's sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note- I am sorry that I can't please everybody. Even though I really want to! :) I'm just following where this thing is leading me. As my friend used to say, I may be running the train but the tracks have already been laid. The characters are who they are.

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Eleven-

_Megan's Dream-_

_ Cold metal slid along her cheekbone. It curved down her throat to her chest, seeming to press it's chill down into the depths of her body as it went. Her breathing was ragged, thundering in her ears with her heartbeat in some kind of twisted symphony as she waited. Waited for it to do something besides tease her. Waiting to die. Something grabbed her hair and yanked backward hard, making her whimper. Unbidden, tears stung her eyes but she wouldn't cry. Not for him. The metal moved up and began tapping the tape over her mouth. Just the tip circled her nostril in an almost lovingly slow torture. Wilson Polly's voice taunted her, his eyes boring into hers. "As a special treat, I'm going to do this while you're still alive."_

_ Her eyes closed automatically against it, waiting for the first searing jab that would send it's painful waves through her any minute. Waiting, but it never came. She felt the sneaking dread take over her knotted stomach. Snapping her eyes open and lowering her head, she screamed._

_ Before her was Wilson and he was stabbing the hook into Peter's stomach over and over again._

_ "I'll make you watch. You'll stay alive while he dies." He snarled._

_ She wanted to fight but her limbs wouldn't move. She could only look on it horror. Flinching from the sight, she turned her gaze to the ground. Trying to breath even though all air had been sucked from the room. Blood splattered on the floor beneath her, a rivulet flowing away to her right. So much blood. It turned into an ocean that threatened to swallow her up._

_ Suddenly her hands were free and she felt the weight of a gun in her hand. She raised it and fired but the bullet didn't hit Wilson at all. _

_ He simply smiled at her, threw Peter's body to the ground and disappeared._

_ She looked around frantically, her whole body going almost numb with fear, but he was nowhere to be seen. And Peter... She stumbled to the ground and frantically tried to cup the blood around her in her hands, to grab hold of it and keep it from slipping away. It was pointless, she knew._

_ "Megan." Peter's voice made her start sobbing at her own helplessness as she clawed at the bloody floor._

-Megan's POV-

"Peter." Megan grunted, starting awake and rising up on her hands before she was even awake. Breathing hard in short pants, she blinked around at her surroundings. Her bedroom was lit with morning sunlight. Everything was as it had been when she had climbed onto her bed in the night. Her eyes slid over to her bedside clock. Three hours. She had been asleep for three hours and somehow felt worse than before she had laid down. Grimacing a little at the ache in the right side of her body, she flipped her hips so that she could sit up. Her head felt heavy. Maybe her walk in the rain had given her a cold. Served her right if it had.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed but immediately had to stop to rest. It felt like she was moving through sand and each attempt was merely wasting energy she did not have. Slowly, she raised her hand to look it over, dully surprised that it wasn't coated in blood. Her nightmare swam through her vision, swathing her body with fear and the sickening memory of Peter bleeding out in front of her. She wanted to throw up. Bracing herself on her knees, she tried to take deep breaths, shoving the urge further back. Her arms were trembling, but the adrenaline slowly started to ebb from her system, leaving her even more tired than ever. Eyes wandering, she caught sight of a handset from her home phone near her bed. It sat there on her nightstand, mocking her with her own cowardice. The fact that she didn't even have the decency to apologize to Peter when he wasn't asleep.

Raising a hand, she scrubbed at her face, careful of her bruise and stitches. Then she ran it through her hair. Finally, she reached out and grabbed the phone, but still hesitated. Who should she call? Peter was... he was asleep, he must be. She forced herself to think so, even though a part of her rebelled and still whispered that he would be awake. He'd be in a regular hospital room by now. A nurse would be helping him to start walking short distances. He was fit and strong, he'd probably even be on a liquid diet already. She could almost see him. Him and his damnably charming smile.

She shook her head. No, she wouldn't call him. But she didn't even know his sister's numbers. Who else _could_ she call? Bud? No, he'd be back with Jeannie, now that she wasn't apparently scaring the hell out him. She recalled enough of last night to remember her mother calling the detective on the phone to let him know she had shown up at home. A different sort of emotion stole over her at the memory. Bud had been worried. About her. Probably the most annoying and frustrating person he knew. A rush of affection swelled up within her. She'd have to find a way to reciprocate. Peter would want her to.

Her eyes trailed over the phone's hard lines, scrutinizing absently. Could she call Ethan? A part of her doubted he would know enough, or be coherent enough, to give her any useful information on Peter's recovery. He would be panicked and wanting to know how she was doing. She didn't want to have to try and lie to him, and telling Ethan she wasn't doing just perfectly fine wouldn't help matters. She definitely didn't want to contact her boss. Kate would probably chew her out for disappearing without telling anyone where she was going. That left only Curtis or Sam. Her thumb floated over the numbers for Curtis' cell, but she didn't press the buttons. He would most likely say something along the lines of her acting like an idiot and why the hell she wasn't still at the hospital.

She took a deep, steadying breath.

Sam it was then.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note- I don't know. Their conversation feels a little off to me, what do think? Sam strikes me as a very direct, but sometimes funny/sarcastic character. I hope I got her voice close.

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Twelve-

-Sam's POV-

"So what you're saying is, you don't know how the drugs got in your back pocket?" Sam asked the back of the junkie's head, tone only slightly disbelieving and mocking as she held him in place. She was rather proud of herself for that.

"Ye-ah lady, really." The guy said over his shoulder, tone duly anxious given his current predicament, but speech slurred. He was obviously higher than a jet-liner. "These ain't even my pants, man."

Sam crinkled her nose. His breath smelled like dead rat and formaldehyde. Then she raised her eyebrow. "Are you telling me I've got to arrest you for possession of stolen goods too? Cause I really don't want to have to confiscate your pants, Deejan."

"Aww, come on, don't take my pants." He groaned. "I didn't steal nothin'."

"So these _are_ your pants?"

"Yeah, man."

"Meaning these are also your drugs." She held the small baggie in front of his eyes so that he could see it.

"Yeeeaahh, see? It's got my initial on 'em an' everything."

"So you do know how these got in your back pocket."

His face, still half pressed into the brick wall in front of him, crumpled in confusion. "Wait." He shook his head. "Naw, ya lost me dude."

She just sighed. "Tell you what Deejan, you tell us where Roach is hanging out these days, we'll cut the charge down to simple possession. Unless you want us announcing to the whole neighborhood that your dealing on his turf?"

"Awww, man. Don't do that." Deejan whined, planting his forehead into the brick wall he was pinned to. He lifted his head again slowly, expression puzzled. "Ow."

"I'm not playin' around, Dee." She replied angrily, pushing him further against the wall. "I need to talk to Roach about what went down over on South Street and I don't have a lot of patience today. Friend of mine's in the hospital. I'm pissed off and you are what is standin' between me and what I want to know." She put just enough pressure on his arm. "Tell us where Roach is, _now_."

"Ow, hey! Okay, okay! He's put up on 22nd alright? Near Manton." Deejan squealed, leaning away from her as far as he could into the wall. "That's all I know."

She smirked and patted him on the shoulder. "Good boy. Come on." Pulling him by his handcuffed arms, Sam led him to her car and shoved him in the backseat.

"You sure he's telling the truth, detective?" The rookie riding with her asked as he opened up the passenger door.

"Enough to go looking." She answered. "Dee doesn't have the balls to lie to me, do you Dee?" The cell on her hip vibrated. "Give me a minute."

The officer nodded and climbed in the car.

"Hey, you got a sandwich or something?" Deejan started asking the officer sullenly. "I got-"

She cut off Deejan's whine by closing the door and answered her cell gruffly. "Baker."

"Sam. Hi, it's-"

"Megan?" Sam finished for her in surprise, pleased to hear the familiar voice. She folded one arm under the opposite elbow to comfortably keep the phone at her ear as she leaning against the hood of the car. "It's good to hear your voice. Are you okay? You kinda disappeared on us the other day."

"Uh- yeah... I'm fine, I guess." The woman didn't sound very certain of herself. She sounded tired and frazzled.

It instantly put Sam on edge. That anything could rob Dr. Megan Hunt of her confidence was disturbing in and of itself. Being completely honest, the doctor had sort of freaked her out the other day in the waiting room with her vacant stares and strong silence too. "You sure?" She asked hesitantly.

"Yes. I... just went for a walk."

Looking up at the sky, which had only stopped spilling out water about twenty minutes before and was still as dark as if someone had prematurely turned off the sun, Sam frowned. "O-kay? You know, you kinda scared the hell outta Bud. He was afraid he'd lost you or somethin', and Jeannie looked like she was going to skin him alive for it."

There was a huff of laughter. "I heard he was concerned."

There was a moment of silence, and Sam could hear the other woman taking a deep breath.

"Sorry, 'bout that."

All right, something was definitely wrong. But the woman was still talking, so Sam tried to settle her unease and listen.

"Um... the reason I called actually is... I don't have my cell. I-I think my purse is still in evidence or something like that."

Blinking, Sam waited as there was another pause, sensing that was not the extent of what Megan had called about.

"So- I was hoping you had information on how Peter was doing."

She processed the question for a moment. Megan was asking _her_ about medical updates? "Uh, no, not really. I haven't seen him since I left yesterday. Bud's got the day off, and I'm helping out VICE with their caseload while we're off duty, but we were going to stop by this afternoon together to check up on him."

"That's great." Megan sounded relieved. "Do you think you could call me and give me an update after you see him?"

Sam frowned. "I guess I could, but... you haven't been back to see him? Since yesterday morning?" She couldn't believe it and didn't even try to hide the fact.

"I-"

"Doc, he's your partner."

"Yeah." The doctor sounded dually chastised and even more exhausted than before.

"Look, Megan, I don't know why you're avoiding him." Sam shook her head. "But- whatever your feelings about what happened or... anything else really; he almost _died_. If Bud was in that hospital room, I'd be there at least twice every day."

Shame curled through Megan's voice. "I know."

"I'm not trying to make you feel worse. Really." Sam gestured vehemently, even though Megan couldn't see her. "But... I've known Peter for a while. You're his friend and partner and he'd want to see you. He saved your life, didn't he?"

"Of course." The answer was quiet, barely audible.

"Do you think he'd have done that if he didn't want you around?"

There was more silence.

Sam sighed and rubbed at the back of her neck, uncertain if she was going about this the right way. "We left your purse with Curtis at the Morgue. I think Ethan had said something about bringing it to your place, but then we didn't know where you were. Your cell should still be inside. Just... at least give him a call, okay Doc? I know it's not really your strong suit, but I can guarantee, he doesn't need it to be right now. And I guess, if you'd feel more comfortable, I'm pretty sure that Dr. Murphy has his sisters' numbers."

After an indistinguishable sound, Megan spoke in a slightly shaking tone. "Okay." Another deep breath. "Okay. I'll... I'll do that." The silence stretched again, so long that Sam began to wonder if Megan had hung up. Then- "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Hey, anytime." Sam answered sincerely. "Just, next time you feel like goin' for a walk, tell Bud where the hell your going so the man doesn't have a heart attack."

Megan laughed. "Will do."


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note- You guys have been so good, I've decided to give you another chapter. Say thank you! ;)

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Thirteen-

Lacey's POV-

Stirring from sleep, Lacey reached out with her hand, searching restlessly for something, though she was a bit too tired to understand what exactly. She rolled over and felt a catching tug on her hips that meant she was still in her jeans. Strange, she never slept in her clothes. Groggily, she sat up and blinked around at her bedroom. What time was it? It didn't feel like morning, the air was too heavy for it. With the back of her hand, she rubbed at her eyes. She felt disoriented. Was she late for school? It couldn't be Saturday, because she spent the weekends at her fathers, not her mo-

The shock of remembering rocked her back onto her hands and suddenly, she was moving. She bolted up from her bed faster than she had ever moved before, ripping the covers back. Ignoring the chill that shot into her bare feet at the first touch to the floor, she stumbled over one of her bags to the door and flung it open, hurrying out into the foyer. The living room was empty, the visible sky a slate gray and spilling forth a gentle drizzle. Frantic now, she took a couple of hesitant steps the other direction to see beyond the partition.

In the open kitchen, her grandmother turned away from the stove in surprise. Her eyes were a little puffy, as though she had been crying not that long ago.

Swallowing, Lacey tried to keep her voice steady, but failed. "W...where's Mom?"

The older woman raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Lacey, relax." She sounded relieved. "Your mother's fine, she's just sleeping." Her hand rose to gesture at the closed door of the other bedroom.

Without stopping to think about what she was doing, Lacey rushed over to it.

"Lacey!"

She didn't pay any attention to her grandmother's fierce whisper; she couldn't. She _needed_ to see her mother. The door opened silently and she paused after only a step inside. The bed lay empty, with only the top covers a little rumpled, as though someone had been sitting on top of them. Panic flooded her whole body. "Mom?" She headed for the door to the adjoining bathroom their bedrooms shared. "Mom?" Her hand grabbed the door and jerked it open.

Her mother stepped back in surprise, hand raised to open the door at the same time. "Lace- what? What is it?"

Flooded with almost painful relief, Lacey took one step into her mother and hugged her tighter than she'd ever held onto anyone before.

After a second, her mother's arms slid around her shoulder's. Eyes stinging with tears, she buried her face harder against the bare curve of Megan's breastbone.

A hand smoothed its way over her hair. "Lacey?" Her mother's voice was worried. "Lace, what's the matter?"

Taking a shaky breath, Lacey struggled not to sob out the words. "I was so scared. I thought-" She couldn't finish. Tears choked the words from her throat and just left her gasping out uneven breaths.

"Oh, Lace." Megan held her tighter. "Shh, it's okay. It's all okay. Everything's going to be fine."

She pulled back to look into her mother's eyes. "You promise?" She felt her mother swallow.

"I promise."

Feeling a little better for it, Lacey nodded and tried to breath normally, blinking away her tears. It was only when her vision cleared that she noticed the large, dark bruise on the side of her mother's face. On seeing it, she couldn't hold back the urge. She burst into deep sobs.

"Lacey." Her grandmother hurried in from where she had been watching from the door to grab her shoulders. "It's alright."

"It's not alright!" Lacey shot at her over her shoulder. She held her mother at arm's length and looked on in horror, actually seeing her for the first time.

She was in a skirt but she had only a bra on her top half, no shirt, as though she had stopped half-way through getting ready for work. As further evidence of this, a pale pink blouse lay on the floor behind her. This lack of concealment revealed light yellow and green bruises, just a slight discoloring on her mother's right hip, shoulder and barely across her upper arm. Lacey could see the rest of it trail down her mother's back in the mirror. There, a particularly dark one cut a thin deep blue and purple line down to her mother's shoulder blade.

"God, Mom, what did he do to you?" Lacey looked back up at the bruise on her mother's face, hand lifting toward it.

Her mother pulled back slightly. "I'm okay, really." She smiled. Her gaze trailed over Lacey's shoulder, as though begging for back up.

Her grandmother turned her slightly so that they were facing each other. "Lacey, come on. Let's let your mother finish getting dressed. Go grab your insulin pump and then you can help me make breakfast." She plastered on a fake looking smile and checked her watch. "Although it's almost time for lunch."

Uncertain and not wanting to leave her mother, Lacey looked back and forth between the two women.

"Go on, Lace." Her mother encouraged. "I'll just be a minute." Her smile looked shaky.

Reluctantly, watching her mother's eyes the entire time, Lacey let her grandmother lead her away.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Fourteen-

Peter's POV-

Slowly, Peter's eyelids lifted. It took all his strength, like there were heavy weights attached to them, but he managed to raise them high enough to become half-blinded by the dim florescent lights. They somehow lanced through his vision straight to his brain, making his head ache dully. Swallowing thickly, he turned his head away. After a long moment of slow blinks, he managed to bring his blurred surroundings into focus.

His youngest sister, Nancy, was asleep in the chair next to his hospital bed. The piece of furniture had been pulled closer to his side, as though proximity could dull her worry, and it was reclined back as far as it would go. One of her legs was curled up near the arm rest and a large lock of her short, light brown hair was slung over one cheek. He looked down groggily. Her left hand was resting on the bed beside his arm, like she had been holding onto him when she had fallen asleep. He didn't doubt that. Even as stubbornly independent as she was, always insisting that she didn't need anyone else's approval or support, she was still a baby when it came to holding onto someone while she was scared. It had been the same way since they were kids. Slowly, he curled his hand around hers and held on to her gently.

Nancy did no more than shift lightly in her seat.

Closing his eyes, he licked his chapped lips and then peeked over to his other side. The rest of the room was empty, nothing but the ugly yellow walls staring back at him. Trying not to give in to the tighter feeling in his chest, he tightened his fist on the reassuring shape of his cellular phone that was still clutched inside. After a glance at Nancy, he lifted it before his face, trying not to make noise that would wake his soundly sleeping sister. He checked to see if there had been any missed calls or messages.

None.

His hand dropped back to the bed in defeat, his thoughts centered around only one person.

Megan.

About the last time he had seen her; really seen her, with his own two eyes. She had looked sheepish and had tried to talk to him, but he hadn't let her. He had dismissed it and pushed her away, letting his anger get the better of him as he told her he was done. Done with her. An agonized growl of sound blew out through his nose as he closed his eyes and his head fell back against the pillows. He hadn't meant it. He raised a hand to press his fingers against his eyes till his vision turned completely white. God, he hadn't _meant it_.

Sighing and letting his hand drop, he thought back over the whole wretched case. How Megan had been struggling. How her eyes had borne a haunted look when she had come back from seeing Polly. How she had lashed out at him. The whole thing should have tipped him off for pete's sake. The guy must have really screwed with her head, like he had tried to do with everyone. And that last...she never initiated conversations about herself. He should have just let her speak. Told Kate they needed a minute. He couldn't help his fear, that that was why she wasn't here. That it had something to do with Polly. What had he done while he had had her trapped, duct taped to a chair? What had he said? Was that why she hadn't even called?

Or was it because of Lacey? He couldn't even imagine how scared she must have been for her daughter. The girl was special, and she meant everything to Megan. So...was she still mad at him?

He dismissed the thought almost as soon as he had it. This wasn't the way she acted when she was angry. That was all fierce confrontation, occasional yelling, and often an argument that left the opposing party feel raw, exhausted, and utterly out of their depth. At least, usually.

So what was this? He was trying to be patient, he really was. He was trying not to give in to his suffocating panic, stuck in the hospital and practically helpless as he was, but- the feeling that Megan was slipping away from him was overwhelming. It had taken him almost two and a half years to get to this point with her and now it seemed like it was all for naught. She was completely shutting him off; pushing him away. Made easier by his continued convalescence, no doubt.

While he couldn't completely decipher it, her behavior was fairly similar to the way she acted anytime he brought up her car accident. Or how she used to respond when he brought up Todd or custody of Lacey. While that seemed to have smoothed out over the last year and a half, he recognized the effect somewhat. He also couldn't seem to shake the feeling that Megan was... suffering. That she was hurt and out there on her own. So perhaps that was it.

Having suspicions, however, didn't make him feel any better. It just left him more worried than ever. He wanted to see her with his own eyes again. To take hold of her hand, feel the soft skin of her palm, and ease the slight tremor he always felt there when she was scared. To reassure her that everything was going to be fine, like he always did. To apologize for not being there sooner. For leaving her alone, vulnerable, with Polly still on the loose. If he hadn't...

Scrubbing at his face again, he switched his gaze from staring into space to looking out the large window at the overcast sky, to take his mind from his guilt.

Outside, the rain had finally stopped but his days had started to blur together so he was a bit hazy on what day it was, much less the hour. He watched the short tops of the swaying trees bending to and fro in the wind. Tried to concentrate on them. Trying to distract himself didn't seem to work very well though. His thoughts kept straying back to Megan and how she was doing. He had come to hate this hospital. More than anything else, he wanted to be there for her and he could hardly do that while he was stuck here.

Angrily, he smacked his fist on the swivel table near him.

"Whoa, easy there tiger." Sam laughed from the doorway, the familiar friendly sparkle in her eyes.

Bud entered the room behind her. "Yeah, I thought you were supposed to be resting, not having sparing matches with the furniture."

He grinned at the sight of them, grateful for the more interesting distraction.

Beside him, Nancy stretched and blinked around at them, smiling in welcome.

"Detective Baker, Morris." Sam introduced them both to his sister.

"Pleasure to meet you." Nancy said, glancing at Peter before taking the proffered hand and shaking it. "Peter's told me about you guys. It's nice to put faces to the names."

"I _do_ have an memorable visage." Bud intoned, with only a slight curl of a smile on his face.

Nancy laughed.

"Ignore him." Sam said, folding her hands in front of her. "We just came to check on Peter."

"Doing good." He told them lightly letting his tone sound smug. "I'm already back on a liquid diet and you should have seen how much I walked this morning."

"That's great news." Bud brandished a colorfully decorated package from behind his back. "From Jeannie."

"Thank you!" Peter said, taking the package. "Hey, how is she doing?"

"The worry has put some strain on her." Bud answered seriously, putting his hands in his pockets. "But now that you're on the mend and we know Megan is home and okay, she's doing much better."

The package slipped from Peter's fingers to fall in his lap. "'Home and okay'?" He repeated, suddenly feeling like he was missing a great deal of his stomach as it bottomed out. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam shot an annoyed look at a suddenly sheepish Bud. "It's nothing, Peter."

He sat straighter. "Tell me."

The two detectives shared a look. Then Bud shrugged. "After Megan left here the other day... we couldn't really find her."

"Couldn't find her?" He asked, confused.

"She went out." Sam said hurriedly. "To clear her head is all."

"But she didn't tell anyone where she was going." Bud added angrily. "I was supposed to give her a ride home, so I was a little worried."

"It wasn't anything _to_ worry about though." Sam soothed. "She turned up at home and Mrs. Hunt let us know she was fine."

"Her mother? Oh, great." Peter made a face. What the hell was going on out there, while he was in here?


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note- Funny you should mention that...

Patience lovely readers, patience. It's coming. :)

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Fifteen-

Ethan's POV-

Ethan made a face as a chilly draft of AC passed over the back of his neck, hunching down in his seat and pulling up his collar. Sparing a fleeting glance around the break room, he tried to shake the feeling that something was going to jump out at him at any moment. He really hated this place being so empty in the middle of the day.

Usually, the Medical Examiner's Office was a hub of busily working people. Scientists would be looking in microscopes, mail carriers going about with a trolley of envelopes to deliver. His colleagues leaning over a dead body or grabbing a cup of bad tasting coffee. And it was late afternoon, the time when most people would be trying to look their busiest. Today though, it was as still as the bodies in cold storage, just as it had been the day before. It freaked him out and gave the whole place an eerie quality it somehow lacked when it was filled with people or quietly settling down for the night.

Bent over the tray of food and files he couldn't seem to focus on, he thought back to yesterday. About seeing the blood pool on the office balcony, Peter laying prone in a hospital bed, and Megan Hunt, silent and pale. He swallowed, his eyes inevitably straying back to Megan's office, visible through the mostly glass walls just as they had so many times before. His stomach and jaw clenched simultaneously, though there was nothing to really see now. The broken shards of glass had been cleaned up long ago. Large new pieces marked with caution tape had already been put up in place of the broken panes. The carpet had been cleaned and the coffee table replaced. Even Megan's personal belongings had either been put back where they belonged or placed in a box near the side if broken. He knew because he hadn't been able to help peeking in a few times while the investigation unit went over every detail of evidence to corroborate Megan's story. It was like some kind of morbid fascination had taken him over.

Only Curtis supervising the clean-up of Megan's office once the team had left had kept him from going back to see the actual removal of the incidents effects. The older man had taken one look at him hovering near the door and gotten that look in his eyes. The one that Ethan couldn't tell whether to be more amused or scared by.

"Nuh-uh, no." He'd strode to the door and shooed him away. "I do not need you hoverin' 'round like some kind of waif. Get on outta here." He'd been so abrupt, stressed himself, that Ethan had done so without argument.

That was yesterday. Today, only the silence of the office stood as testament that anything had even occurred. Which, strangely, made it even creepier that when there had been a pool of blood on the balcony stone work.

Grimacing, he turned back to the file beside his plate and tried to concentrate. _Just don't think about it, _he told himself.Flipping the top paper inside the file up and out of the way, he bit into his muffin before awkwardly trapping the file in place to fill in some information. Then he slowly let the paper fall again, though he knew what he would see when he did. On top of the page, awkwardly snapped into place, was a picture of the subject. The cadaver.

Wilson Polly.

He stared at it for a moment. Never before had seeing one person dead filled him with such relief. He had put off the actual autopsy till this morning, thinking it would be hard to do, but it had proven easy to accomplish. There was a certain sense of satisfaction he had gotten from doing it even. From _knowing, _without a shadow of a doubt, that the serial killer was dead. That he couldn't hurt Megan or Peter ever again.

Now, if only things would go back to normal. All he found himself wanting was for the quiet to recede and to see Megan in her office, giving him advice on his cases. To lean over a body with her and watch the wheels turning in her brilliant mind as she looked it over. He missed learning from her; he missed _her, _and he missed seeing Peter too, despite the tension that had existed between them for such a long while. He sighed. If only his colleagues were back here, where they belonged-

He started in surprise, knocking over the pile of files waiting for his attention. Shocked eyes jumped after the movement that had caught his eye, a figure that had passed by before he could fully register who it was. As his gaze caught up, his brain was still slow to follow.

It was Megan, striding down the hall at a steady, quick pace as though his thoughts had conjured her. Her face was uncharacteristically turned down toward her feet, as though she was trying to see as little of her surroundings as possible, and shaded from view by her wet hair.

"Megan!" He called in shock, before he could think better of it. Trying to gather up his many scattered folders to rush and follow her, he succeeded merely in dropping half of them to the floor. An snort of exasperation was his only response to that, as he kept his eyes on his boss.

Thankfully, the doctor had heard him, jerked to a halt, and was blinking at him through the glass in surprise. The water trailing through her hair dripped down onto her shoulders, where her trench coat was already soaked. It must have started raining again outside.

For a second, they just stared back at each other. Then she smiled, a huff of laughter escaping her lips. He grinned. As he dropped to his knees on the floor to pick up the spilled files, she slowly stepped up to the entrance. There, she leaned slightly against the doorjamb, hands clasped behind her back and looking distinctly like she was trying not to laugh.

He couldn't be embarrassed, he was too happy to see her smiling again.

"Hi, Ethan."

"Dr. Hunt, you have no idea how good it is to see you." He grabbed the last of the files and replaced them back on the table, standing to face her.

Her smile slipped just slightly, before becoming wider. "Thanks."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

After a while, he decided he might as well break it. "So- what are you doing here? I mean, I thought Dr. Murphy told you to take like, a week off."

"Oh, she did." Megan's tone was challenging. Her eyes glinted for a second, as if to say 'yeah, that'll happen', but it lasted only a second. Her expression turned serious quickly. "I'm actually here for my purse. I- kinda need my phone."

"Oh, sorry, I was going to bring it to you-" He stalled, not sure how to continue.

"But then you weren't sure where I was." She finished for him. "'S okay, Ethan. I'm here now."

"Well, Curtis still has it."

She looked around expectantly.

"He's in his office." He supplied.

"Thanks Ethan." She turned to go.

He hesitated a moment. "Dr. Hunt." He finally called after her.

She paused and looked back.

"It really is very nice to see you here."

Her smile returned. "You too, Ethan."


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note- Sorry for the long delay, I've been terribly sick. As such, my writing is probably going to be rather sub-par for awhile. *shrugs- It really can't be helped. :P

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Sixteen-

Peter's POV-

Sam and Bud had been gone for half an hour, taking with them his only hope of more information on Megan in the foreseeable future. It already felt like an eternity. Bud said he was taking Jeannie to see her later tonight, but waiting around for his promised update only left a sour taste in the back of Peter's mouth. It was _his_ job to have Megan's back, after all. Hell, even Sam had spoken to his her more recently than he had. It was pathetic. _He_ felt pathetic. And to his frustration, it seemed the two detectives hadn't heard much more about how Megan was actually doing. They hadn't seen her and they couldn't hide the fact that they were both a little worried for her.

It was nothing compared to the suffocating sensation he was beginning to feel.

He really couldn't take it anymore. He had to do something; he just had to.

Beside him, Nancy was busy messing with stuff in her bag, trying to set up her computer so she could get some work done. He took her momentary distraction to surreptitiously eye his morphine drip. While he no longer needed an IV and had been moved onto a liquid diet without any complications, it would be a while before they switched him to pills for his pain management. It presented a problem, but one he could deal with, he supposed. He still had his cell clutched in one hand, so that problem was covered as well. Now, as for Nancy... "Hey, Nanc-" He started cavalierly. "-you think you could get me some soup?"

From where she was crouched over her bag, Nancy looked up at him in surprise. "You're hungry?" Her confusion was understandable. His appetite had been pathetic lately.

"Famished." He lied smoothly. "Only- the hospital stuff is awful."

She made a sympathetic face as she straightened up.

"There's a bistro on Chestnut that makes an excellent chicken broth." He said hopefully.

Startled, she looked toward the door as if worried someone was going to catch her speaking to the prisoner. "I don't know."

Peter rolled his eyes before forcing his expression to stay gentle, tone understanding as he spoke quietly. "I'm not going to die if you leave me alone, Nan."

Her expression shattered and she turned her face away from him.

For a moment he felt guilty, but he reminded himself it needed to be said anyway. It was something she struggled with and she wasn't the only one of his sisters that didn't want to let him out of their sight. He'd had to do the same thing when he'd taken a bullet to the shoulder. "I'll be fine... and I'd really appreciate it."

Finally, Nancy nodded jerkily, grabbed her purse and looked back at him, scrubbing under her eyes as inconspicuously as possible. With a final nod, she practically ran for the door.

He waited an extra few minutes after she stepped from the room, just long enough to be sure she wasn't coming back any time soon. It was as long as he could contain himself. Carefully, he pulled the morphine needle from his arm. Pressing a hand to his stitches, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood shakily.

It took his breath away just to hobble to the door. While he'd been steadily increasing how much he walked when the nurse got him up every two hours or so, he knew he wouldn't make it far on his own power even as he left the room. He looked down at his hand. That was what the cell was for.


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Note- I'm no good at Curtis' dialogue. So... bear with me.

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Seventeen-

Curtis' POV-

He was surprised, there was no denying that, and yet, he knew he shouldn't be. Whatever Dr. Murphy said, whatever Detective Morris had told them, he should have known Megan Hunt wouldn't stay away from work for long. It was in her nature. It was as though the woman simply didn't know the meaning of the word 'relax'.

Still... it had been _he_ who had seen the damage to her office close up. Her bloody fingerprints on pieces of glass and on the carpet where she had pushed herself up to her feet. On the door frame. How much of Peter's blood had really soaked the stonework. Her knee and shoe prints in said blood. He had thought she'd at least be gone for longer than a day.

Yet here she was, standing just inside his doorway, looking distinctly...paler, than normal.

To which he only had one response. "_What_- are you doin' here?" Before she could answer, he continued as he stood up from his desk. "And what's the matter? You forget how to eat?" Grumpily, he took the apple from his half-eaten lunch and shoved it into her hands.

She stood speechless.

"Come here looking like a poster child for anemia. Nah-uh, not on my watch." He grumbled under his breath as he returned to his seat.

For a long moment, she stood there looking as though she couldn't quite believe what he had just done.

He sat and then gave the given piece of fruit a significant look.

Her incredulous smile grew to an outraged scoff before dropping away to a scowl. She quickly lifted the apple and sunk her teeth into it. Chewing, she gave him a 'happy?' look.

Satisfied, he turned back to his papers. "What can I do for you, Dr. Hunt?"

"I came for my personal effects. Namely- my purse. I believe you have it?"

That sounded more like the Dr. Hunt he knew. "Got it right here."

She reached out her hand, looking relieved, but he handed her a clipboard instead.

"Fill out and sign."

Her head tilted, mouth slightly ajar even as she looked the page over. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I do not kid about paperwork." He answered, completely deadpan.

She huffed. "Yeah, I remember." Her hand moved the attached pen over the paper quickly before handing it back with another 'satisfied?' look.

He opened a drawer, withdrew her purse and held it out to her. "And Dr. Hunt?"

Megan paused with one hand on the strap of her bag.

"Good to see you."

He could see her annoyed expression falter a little as she took her purse and stepped away, before it slipped away completely as she looked down at the apple. The red flesh of the fruit was broken by only her one bite, but by the way she was looking at it, you'd think it had sprouted legs. Then she looked back up at him in astonishment. Slowly, she turned, but before she slipped out the door, she spoke out in a quiet voice. "Thank you."

He stopped pretending to look at paperwork he had lost interest in long before. Their interaction had made him feel better, despite her appearance. It seemed to have made her feel it too, which is what he had intended. She always did do defiant and annoyed better than uncertain. It was about time she started feeling like herself again.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note- Guess what? I think I've finally kicked this illness' butt, much to your joy I'm sure, so I'm gonna try to hustle it with future chapters. We'll see how it goes. :) Now to see what Peter is up to...

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Eighteen-

Peter's POV-

The front entrance of the hospital was noisy and crowded, so that every time the automatic doors whooshed open another cacophony of sound was released out into the open air. Peter stood leaning heavily against a stone pillar beside the curving drive, catching his breath with only a few winces. It'd been a fair distance from his room to where he was now, but he had made the walk relatively well. He was only winded, not really pained. At least, not terribly. He pulled his cell up to his line of sight, seeing if he had missed any calls while he had been making the journey, this time not knowing if he wanted there to be any or not.

Suddenly, a silver car pulled around the corner. It sped its way alongside the hospital before swerving into the drive and screeching to a halt beside the curb near him. He smiled at the sight of it.

Dr. Kate Murphy climbed out the of the drivers seat to level a disbelieving glare his way. "Have you _completely_ lost your mind?" She shouted at him over the top of her car, swinging an arm onto the roof with her keys still clutched in her grasp.

"Good to see you too." He puffed.

She stepped back and slammed her car door shut. "Get back in the hospital. _NOW_."

"Not till you help me." He winced, pushing off the pillar toward her car. His abdomen was protesting the continued movement, so he hoped to finish this argument quickly and sit down in the car as fast as humanly possible. A grin flashed her way only seemed to make Kate more exasperated though.

"Don't try to be stubborn." She said in disgust, sounding just a little shrill as she pointed at herself. "I'm Megan Hunt's boss, I can handle stubborn like you wouldn't believe."

"Oh, I believe you." He laughed, setting a hand on her car to steady himself. Okay, maybe more than a hand. More like half of his body weight. "However, on this subject, I'm more like 'the unstoppable force' than just plain stubborn."

"Do not make me call your sisters, cause I will do it." She threatened.

"Just here me out, Kate." He pleaded.

She folded her arms over her chest. "I'm waiting."

He took a deep breath before he continued. "Worry doesn't help the recovery process; And in that hospital, with nothing to do but sit and think, that is all I've been doing. Worrying. Ever since I woke up yesterday. It's gonna kill me before any of my injuries can come close."

Kate frowned, but he took it as a good sign when she didn't interrupt.

"Megan hasn't been to see me. Not since her first visit yesterday morning. She hasn't called, or hounded my doctors. She's been disappearing, going for walks in _this_ weather-" He gestured up at the heavily somber sky. "-of all times, going who knows where and for pete's sake, her _mother_ is at her house. The woman causes Megan's paresthesia to act up more than anyone I know. I just... I _need_ to see her. I need to know that she's okay. Even if... I mean, if she hates me, that's- fine, but I can't handle not knowing if she's alright. I'm usually the one person she'll confide in when she's not and without that..." He let the sentence hang unfinished, leaving the repercussions up to Kate's imagination.

Her face scrunched in confusion. "Hate you? Peter, what are you talking about? You saved her life, why in the world would you think Megan hates you?" Kate asked incredulously.

"It's complicated. Something I said that I- didn't mean. That I wish I could take back." He looked down at the ground, his voice lowering to a bare whisper. "I wasn't there, Kate. I wasn't there when she needed me to be, because I was angry with her."

"Peter." Kate scoffed, shaking her head. "Everyone gets angry at Megan once in a while. That doesn't mean that you are responsible for what happened. Wilson Polly wasn't your fault."

"He got to her because I wasn't there." He said fiercely, looking back up at her eyes to try and make her understand. "He tied her up and threatened her. You yourself told me he was going to kill her. Pull her brain out through her nose, for god's sake."

She just looked strangely sorry for him, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Please, Kate." He pressed. "Please. I swear, I'll take it easy and I'll come right back."

Uncertainly, she cast a glance at the hospital entrance, as if contemplating getting help to haul him back inside.

"I just need you to take me to Megan. So that I can talk with her alone. So that I can know for myself."

Kate brow crumpled as she searched his eyes.

Peter tried to look as convincing and pitiable as possible.

Finally, she let out another heavy sigh, looking skyward. "Heaven help me, being stuck with the two most stubborn people on the planet." She closed her eyes and lowered her head. "You're both gonna either get me fired or put in an early grave, you know that?"

He smiled hopefully.

She opened her eyes and glared at him. "Wipe that smirk off your face, and get in the damn car before I change my mind."


	19. Chapter 19

Author's Note- Hmmm, good thought on the guards, but he's a patient, not a prisoner. He'd actually be encouraged to walk around the grounds of the hospital as much as he was able. It'd probably be fishy that he was alone, but I doubt they'd stop him from getting a little fresh air. It's not their fault he had a getaway driver. :)

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Nineteen-

Megan's POV-

The door into the parking garage closed behind her with a loud clack and in the dark, abandoned silence of the underground structure, Megan took a moment to inhale a deep, steadying breath. It had taken the last of her energy to reach this point, to force her legs to carry her down the hall to the elevator as she tried to remain unfazed by the proximity to her office. She had felt... lighter somehow coming out of Curtis' office, as though her surroundings weren't as oppressive as they had been. Though she would never mention it to him, the man had a soothing voice. Even if, more often than not, it was raised an octave in incredulity when directed her way. Still, she had no idea what her colleague had done that made her feel better. Being in this building still made her miss Peter. Her body was still sore, her head still muddled- but... there seemed to be a weight that had lifted from her shoulders and her mind. As though the proverbial light had finally appeared at the end of the darkened tunnel. It had remained difficult not to think about Peter or Wilson as she passed through, but even that had proven easier than before.

Pushing off the door, she kept her steps slow and steady as she walked, trying to appear as though there was absolutely nothing on her mind except her destination just in case anyone was down here to see. While she moved, she reached into her bag. It felt weird; almost alien to her, kind of like a limb that had been severed and wasn't attached to her body anymore. Her probing fingers met her cell phone's hard cover and wrapped around it gratefully. Then she fished out her keys, unlocked her car and climbed in. Once the door was shut, blocking out the rest of the world, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat.

What an exhausting day it was turning out to be. She definitely needed to try and get more sleep tonight or she wasn't going to have the energy to get back to work at all. And she needed to work. As much as she had gotten other things to do and to fill her life with, work seemed as though it was going to remain the one thing that gave her a balanced feeling. She always felt better and more confident when she was working.

Sighing, she opened her eyes and looked down. Her cellphone was still clutched in her right hand, dark and dead. Slowly, she took the end of the car charger and put it into the appropriate port, watching as the screen lit up. After a moment, the thing flashed, showing her she had 26 different missed calls and 14 messages.

A small, shocked chuckle escaped her lips. She had never had so many before.

Pressing buttons, she took a quick inventory of the missed calls. The first eight alternated between Peter and Kate. The next four were only from Kate until calls from Sam filtered in. After that, there was a break and she had to swallow, knowing why. Then, there were two from Ethan's cell and finally about five from Bud, two from a number she didn't recognize, and the very last was all too familiar to her.

Peter's cell. The date on it was after the surgery, after her disappearance. Just that morning in fact. There was no message left but she didn't really need one. She suddenly felt her guilt sink all the way to her stomach, making her eyes burn and her hands tremble.

She looked away from phone, setting her hands on the steering wheel and gripping it hard. Her eyes didn't focus on anything in particular. She just stared off into space until her shaking eased. After it finally did, she unconsciously swiped the back of her hand against her cheek and then rubbed her palms together. Maybe if she pressed hard enough, the feeling would return to them. She swallowed heavily and picked the phone back up but before she could do anything more, it rang in her hand, startling a small squeak from her. She was doubly thankful there was no one around to hear that.

The number was unfamiliar to her.

Pressing the talk button, she brought it to her ear. "Dr. Hunt."

A woman's voice responded. "Megan, right? You're Peter's colleague?" She didn't wait for a reply. "Hi, um, this is Peter's sister, Nancy. I'm here at the hospital-"

"Is everything alright?" Fear spiked through her system, forcing her to lean forward and hang on Nancy's response.

"Uh, well, no. Peter's not here."

"What?" The words didn't really register.

"He slipped out of his room while I was out. A nurse said she asked him if he wanted help, but he told her he wanted to try to accomplish a walk on his own. She was just glad he was feeling well enough to want to be independent." The woman's voice was frantic.

Megan's brain seemed to have stalled.

"He hasn't contacted you, has he?"

"M-me? No, I-" She thought about the missed call from this morning. "I missed a call from him earlier, but..." Oh god, what the hell was Peter thinking? Where was he? How-

"It's just that..." She seemed to hesitate. "-he's kinda been worried about you, I think. He talks a little in his sleep and... and I was just hoping he might have called you or something."

Megan swallowed. "Uh, no, sorry."

A defeated, teary breath came over the phone.

Damn it, she was not good at this kind of thing. "Look, uh, give me your number and stay at the hospital. I'll look for him and call you back if I find him."

"Okay." Nancy's voice was still shaky, but also a little relieved. "Thanks."

Adopting her most soothing tone, Megan switched ears and tried to sound confident again, though at the moment she was feeling anything but. "It'll be okay. Peter may do stupid things, but he isn't an idiot. And as long as he's careful, he can get by without causing himself more harm. He'll be okay."

There was a pause and Megan could almost see the other woman nodding wordlessly through her tears. "Yeah."

"I'll call you back in twenty minutes."


	20. Chapter 20

Author's Note- I know, I know. You feel neglected and it _has_ been forever. I've been dealing with several deaths in my immediate family and just finished off possibly the worst week of my life. I got robbed, almost got hit by a car (seriously, my hands were on the hood of said car), and managed to get an earache the size of Kuwait. SO, I haven't really been up to tackling what I knew the next chapter would be. All I can say is, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting and I hope I don't disappoint (since I can't seem to keep you guys from having expectations ;P )

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close. Still.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Twenty-

Peter's POV-

"Geez, Peter." Kate grimaced, glancing back at the elevator they had just exited and then looking him up and down as he hobbled his way along the hall beside her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He sent her a reassuring grin, even as he huffed air breathlessly into his straining lungs. His stomach was starting to burn. "I've got this, Kate, really." He rested for a moment, just long enough to pull in a steadier breath and crack his shoulders back a little to give his chest room to expand. His primal instinct was to curl in on his injuries, but it was causing his back to start aching. He let out an exhausted sigh quietly enough that Kate shouldn't be able to hear it. In simple truth, he was starting to dream of chairs the same way an alcoholic might dream of a bar; anything that would get him off his feet really. However, he knew that if he said that to his boss, she would do anything she could to get him back to that hospital room whether he'd seen Megan or not. He straightened up a little more. He wasn't going to be stopped so close to his goal. "Only a little further."

Kate looked altogether unconvinced, but didn't stop him as he used the wall to propel himself the last few strides. The only gesture she made was extending her arm out to steady and support him as they went.

Finally he made it to the right apartment and stopped. Leaning beside the door, he tried to catch his breath raggedly as he rapped his knuckles against the wood.

After a brief moment of waiting, Kate did it again.

When the door opened at last, Lacey blinked back at them in surprise. "Kate, Peter- What are you guys doing here?"

"We came to see your mother." Kate said. "Can we come in? Peter needs to sit down."

"Uh, yeah, but-" Lacey stepped back to let them inside. "I thought you were in the hospital." This she directed at Peter, swinging the door shut. "Didn't you like, _just_ have surgery _yesterday_?"

"Nah, that was over thirty-five hours ago." He puffed, finding a chair pulled up near the kitchen island and lowering himself into it gingerly. "You bounce back quickly from these things." Across the island, he could see Megan's mother looking at him suspiciously from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dishtowel. "Mrs. Hunt." He said, dipping his head in greeting.

She just hemmed in response.

"Well, Mom's not here." Lacey said, looking to her grandmother.

"She went to work." Joan Hunt supplied, pulling off her apron and leaning against the counter.

"What?" Kate's voice tipped into outrage. "I specifically told her to take at least a week off. She's not even supposed to be in the building until she's seen Dr. Sinmon."

The two other women in the room looked confused.

"The county shrink." Peter answered their unspoken question dryly.

"Oh." Lacey looked disconcerted.

"Don't worry Lacey." Kate said reassuringly. "It's standard. Just part the rules for things like this."

The girl nodded uncertainly.

"Peter."

He turned his head back to Joan and found her staring at him piercingly. It made him uncomfortable enough that he shifted in his seat.

"You're the one that was in the hospital. You're the one that was stabbed by that serial killer."

He nodded slowly, wondering where she was going with this.

She came around the island and stood next to him. "You saved my daughter's life, and almost died."

Before he could say anything in response to that, she leaned in and hugged him around the shoulders. "Thank you."

For a long moment, he was struck speechless. From what he understood from Megan, Joan Hunt wasn't a very tactile person. He had often suspected that a lot of Megan's problems stemmed from that. But who knew? A lot of things had changed in the past few days.

It was Joan that broke the contact, drawing back and away behind the island, as if trying to distance herself from what she had just done.

Another pair of arms wrapped around him from behind and he looked up into Lacey's youthful face. "Really. Thanks Peter."

He gave her a lop-sided grin. When she released him, he looked around and found Kate leaning against the wall in the hall smiling at him knowingly. He stifled the impish urge to stick his tongue out at her. "Uh, do you guys know when Megan will be back or-"

Just then, there was a small clattering at the front door. It swung open and a delicate hand struggled to remove the keys. And then she stepped into view.

His first sight of Megan brought him such crushing relief, he almost passed out and had to grip the edge of the counter to keep from keeling over. Just seeing her alive was like passing into the sun after being under a heavy storm-cloud.

Megan kicked the door closed behind her. "Mom, I need to borrow your phone." She was speaking into her purse while she looked inside as she stepped into her home. "Peter's sister called. He's left the hospital and he's mis-" She froze, mid-sentence and mid-step, having finally spotted Kate leaning against the wall. "What-" Her eyes scanned over, passing by the divider and fell on him, sitting there at her kitchen counter. The purse dropped from her suddenly slack fingers with a great _thump_.

"Hey." Peter smiled gently at her, his relief probably palpable.

Dazed, she sidestepped slowly into the kitchen entrance.

He couldn't help but frown then, as her hair swept to the side just enough to show the large discolored bruise on her cheekbone. Her swallowed. Polly had given that to her. Sorrow and guilt filled his gut like acid, making him nauseous. He felt his heart tear just a bit at seeing the evidence of her ordeal and once again cursed that he had left her alone. How had he been so stupid?

Finally, Megan blinked and seemed to shake off her shock. "What- what are you doing here?" Her tone grew frantic as she leaned toward him on the other side of the kitchen island. "You should be at the hospital Peter!"

"Well, since you hadn't come to visit me, I thought it best to come visit you." He said softly. "Kate gave me a ride."

Megan immediately looked over to Kate, who had come to stand in the archway she had just entered. She held her hands out to the side in exasperation. "Kate?"

"Hey, don't blame me." Kate half-laughed, half-scoffed. "I've been fielding the press for you people for two _days_." She pointed at him flippantly. "I'm not paid enough to field Peter for you too." She grabbed her purse from where she had set it, her coat still on. "You guys have a lot to hash out. On you own, this time. Lacey, Mrs. Hunt, would you like to go to lunch with me?"

Joan gave her daughter and Peter one last piercing, skeptical look and followed the Chief ME. "I think I will. Come on, Lacey."

Lacey didn't look like she was that sorry to leave, though she did cast a curious look back their way before the door closed on their little group.

Megan stood speechless, hands still frozen out to the side in disbelief.

For a long time, neither of them moved. He watched Megan as she simply stared at the door like she'd suddenly been thrown to the wolves. Then, hesitantly, Megan stepped into the hallway and put down her keys, nudging her purse in place with one foot and shrugging out of her coat slowly. "Want something to drink?" She asked the wall, not looking at him. "You're on a liquid diet already, right?"

He nodded before he realized she wouldn't see it. "Um...yeah. Sure." His voice was quieter than he intended, but it made Megan glance at him briefly, so he supposed quiet was the way to go.

Silently, she made her way over to the sink, pulling two glasses from the cupboard beside it and filling one with water from the filter. She then bent into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine, which she poured into the other glass. Seeming nervous, she brought the cups to the counter where he sat. After taking a seat close to him, she lifted her glass in careless salut and downed several deep swallows.

"Wine?" He asked, taking a sip of his water. It was remarkably tasty. He supposed he was just feeling a little worn out and dehydrated.

She slowly set the cup on the counter top with exaggerated care. "It's been a hard week." She smirked then, still not taking her eyes from the glass.

"Yeah." He agreed with a small laugh for the obvious understatement. He took another drink, larger this time, before setting his glass near hers. The silence stretched between them as he studied the dark lines of color in her marble counter-top and she stared into space. A sigh passed his lips as he edged forward a little, then he winced, feeling pain coming from his abdomen. His painkillers were starting to wear off and there was no doubt in his mind that he had overdone it today.

Despite the fact that she had been very carefully not looking at him, Megan started. "What? What is it? Are you alright?"

"Twinges." He tried flippantly, but she was already out of her seat.

She moved around him and crouched at his side.

He always marveled that she could manage that position in heels.

"Let me see." She started hiking up his shirt before he could protest. When she gently peeled the bandage back enough to look at the wound, she tsked. "Peter, you tore the left edge of your stitches. And the wound has gotten slightly discolored, you might have torn your internal stitches." She stood. "We need to get you back to the hospital. Now."

"No." He grabbed her hand before she could turn away. It startled him when he felt her hand actually trembling. He continued more softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of her knuckles soothingly. "No, please, not just yet."

She stood for one fidgeting moment, seeming undecided.

He gave her his best pleading look. "Just a few more minutes."

Gently, she pulled her hand away from his and returned to her seat, still refusing to meet his eyes.

For a long while, silence regained its strangle-hold. He didn't really know what to say at this point. If he knew the right words, he would have sat himself down before all this and practiced them over and over again before he'd even come _looking_ to explain them to her. "So- uh, how's Aiden?" He winced. _Right, that was a great topic to start with_, he remonstrated himself.

Her face scrunched up as though she was thinking the same thing. "Uh... good- I think."

"You don't know?" He just couldn't stop himself, but maybe he hadn't been the only person she had been avoiding.

"He met someone- on his 'trip'." She answered quietly.

He flinched. "Sorry."

She shrugged halfheartedly. "No, it's... alright. He seems happy and- I'm happy _for _him. So..." Her voice held more hurt than she probably realized.

He set his hand on top of hers. "Still."

She shot him a brief, closed smile that didn't even come close to reaching her eyes. "Y-you came all this way. Obviously something brought you here. You wanted to speak to me?"

Nervously, he cleared his throat, still at a loss for words. "Uh, yeah." He tried to think fast. "Hey, maybe we _could _go for a drive or something." Anything that would give him time to order his thoughts, even if it involved more moving. She finally met his gaze, expression curious, and he stopped breathing for a second. It was as though all the air had vanished from the room. It was a struggle to clear his mind enough to speak. "Take the long way back to the hospital maybe?" It would at least give her something to look at besides her wine glass.

Obviously confused, she nodded slowly. "Alright then."


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note- Thank you so much for all the well wishes, I greatly appreciate it and the reviews! My goodness, you guys are awesome. I'm glad you like it so far.

About the last chapter, I didn't really want to write about Aiden at all, so I think he's lucky to have gotten a passing mention. :) This one is late because the last three chapters kind of rolled into one continuous ream, so expect the next/last ones shortly.

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Twenty One-

Megan's POV-

As she helped lower him into the passenger seat of her car, Megan hoped like hell Peter couldn't feel the tremble still in her hands. That would be the last thing she needed right now, since he seemed to have already noticed how agitated she was. She'd been having trouble with them since the call from his sister, as though her limbs were frightened by the mere mention of seeing him and her heart seemed to be following their lead in fluttering a too-fast rhythm against her sternum.

Luckily, Peter couldn't seem to tell around his own shaking. He'd obviously over-taxed himself just coming to see her and for the fifth time just today, she cursed her cowardice. If she had just called sooner he wouldn't be in this state. They moved slowly as she picked up his legs for him and folded them into the footwell, carefully trying not to jar his sore body. He winced a little, but seemed alright as he slumped in the seat, clearly spent.

After she shut the door, she stood still for a moment leaning against the car, carefully taking her first real breath in the past half-hour. _She had Peter. She'd found him! He wasn't lost, laying in a ditch somewhere with no one to help him. _As much as it ticked her off that her boss had agreed to this little psychotic outing, he'd been smart to call Kate. At least he was using his brain a little.

"Very little." She growled under her breath. She pushed off the car, clutching her keys hard in her fist as she strode around it. Without speaking, she pulled her door open and climbed inside. However, when she was finally seated next to Peter, she just sat there, unable to make herself grip the wheel or switch on the ignition. Her hands were tingling and slightly numb. _God, not now._ She cast her eyes toward the ceiling, one hand in her lap, one resting in the curve of the steering wheel, both useless. Needle-sharp pain started prickling up her fingers, traveling all the way up to her wrists and sending shots of searing tingles up her forearms. It took all her self control, but she resisted the urge to rub the feeling back into them, lest Peter see it. All she could do was clench her teeth and repeat to herself over and over again that Peter was right there beside her. She didn't need to worry. He was here with her, dammit, why couldn't she focus?

"We don't have to drive yet." Peter spoke gently.

His soft tone- understanding so thickly written in it that it was impossible to miss- just made her feel worse. She shook her head. God, he didn't understand anything. He didn't know how hard this was, or how much her head was pounding with her thoughts running themselves in circles. "I'm sorry." The words bubbled past her lips without her conscious consent and seemed to release some of the crushing pressure in her chest, making it easier to breathe. A single tear burned its way down the outside of her left cheek before she could stop it. Trying to be surreptitious, she clenched and unclenched her fists.

Suddenly, Peter's hands enveloped her right. She looked at him in surprise, but he was wholly focused on his task, kneading the hurting limb as though he could tell exactly where it hurt. Unconsciously, her head fell back against the headrest, eyes closing just enough so that her world dimmed and focused only on Peter's look of concentration. As his fingers swept over hers, a whimper escaped her throat but she swallowed it enough that it came out as a grunt. Just as the feeling started to come back to her right hand, Peter switched to her left, wincing a little for having to turn toward her to reach it before pulling it closer to him so he was more comfortable. She let herself be pulled. She didn't speak, just let him work for a time. It felt so good, so... soothing. The pain receded completely. Another tear escaped control, this time on the right where Peter would see, so she reluctantly tugged her hand out of his. She scrubbed the lone droplet of water away quickly and, fumbling slightly because of her still recovering fingers, started the car in an attempt to stall any response he might have made into the silence. Hell, she just needed a _moment_ to clear her head. Just a moment. Driving was monotonous enough that she could do that. It was probably even why he suggested it. It gave them both something to focus on other than each other. He gave her several minutes of silent travel as she guided the car along the circuitous route to the hospital as he had suggested, but she could feel the wheels in his head turning the entire time just as surely as the wheels of her car spun along the pavement.

Finally, just when the tension became almost unbearable, it seemed he could stand the silence no longer either. "Why are you sorry, Megan? What do you have to be sorry for?" He scoffed the last bit, making her glance at him briefly though his face was away turned toward the window. He continued at a hoarse whisper. "I'm the one that screwed up."

Her brow scrunched in confusion at his statement, but she focused on the question instead. It was probably now or never. She swallowed. "I'm sorry that- that I ran away. I ran and I didn't come back." She tried hard to breathe steadily, carefully looking out the other side of the car as she switched lanes for no reason. "I'm sorry you had to come get me. All because I was- avoiding you. And I'm sorry you were... hurt, because you came back for _me_. That Wilson got anywhere near you. I'm- just really _sorry._" The block in her throat felt as large as a baseball now, stopping her from talking any further, which was probably for the best.

More silence followed her admission, leaving her wondering what was going through Peter's head. Was he angry with her? Did he resent her? Was he even still breathing over there? She couldn't hear him. She wanted to look at him desperately, but was too afraid to meet his gaze. Especially with her own swimming with unshed tears she was still trying to force down beneath a calmer veneer.

His finally uttered whisper was barely audible over the sound of the engine. "I kept expecting you to come. Everyone who came in through the door, for a wild moment, I would always think it was you." He laughed bitterly, still quiet, and shook his head. "I won't deny, it hurt that it never was."

She bit her lip to keep herself under control, though a crushing weight was settling on her shoulders.

"But... I understand. Maybe better than you think. It just...it wasn't your fault Megan. My getting hurt- that was a result of _my_ decision. And I'd make it again."

With those simple words, she could suddenly breathe. The rush made her feel slightly lightheaded, so it was probably a good thing they had stopped at a light. The fact that he didn't blame her made her guilt somehow easier to bear. She closed her eyes briefly, to drink in the lighter feeling suffusing her body.

A horn honking behind her jolted her back to the reality of traffic. They were only a few blocks from the hospital and both seemed content for a moment to let the silence reign.


	22. Chapter 22

Author's Note- Gah! Just problems on top of problems! I will spare you guys the long rant about my computer, which lost all of my work, but... Gah!

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Twenty-Two-

Peter's POV-

Peter was shell-shocked, to be perfectly honest. All right- a hell of a lot- shell-shocked. Who could blame him? As Megan steered the car into the back entrance of the hospital, he could do nothing but sit still and stare at her out of the corner of his eye. He had seen her rake away her tear, like it was somehow evidence of a ugly weakness. He had felt how tense her muscles were when he rubbed the paresthesia from her fingers just by the way she held herself. His only consoling thought was that at least now he knew what he was looking at; the emotion she had been trying to hide. She was and had been, feeling guilty this whole time, just like he was.

He couldn't believe it. _That_ was why she hadn't been to see him? Not because she was angry, but because she was feeling responsible, blaming herself for what happened? After all that he had said, all that he had done? Was she _crazy_? He thought about that for a second. Yes, she probably was, a little. Did he like her that way? Absolutely. He couldn't imagine her as being anything else. It was one of the things he truly loved about her.

He started a little. Loved as in, friend/partner love. Yes, that was it. This whole thing was just...She just didn't understand. She didn't understand that neither of them would have ended up in that place, that situation, if it weren't for him. He scrubbed at his face as they pulled up into the curve of the hospital driveway where patient loading and unloading signs were posted. As Megan went to get out of the car, he reached out and grabbed her arm, hoping as he held onto it that she couldn't feel him shaking. "I'm the one that's sorry." He was speaking toward the center console, mostly because he could barely get the words to pass through his lips. This was the part that he had been dreading. The part where he had to explain to her why she should hate him.

Megan blinked back at him, surprised by what he had said or by the physical contact, he wasn't sure. She settled back into her seat, but didn't bring her left foot back into the vehicle. "You? For what?"

His eyes burned, and he had to close them. "I wasn't there. When it happened."

A moment of stillness passed over them before Megan frowned. "What? Peter, you saved my life. Of course you were_ there_." She said it adamantly, ducking her head, trying to get him to look her in the eyes.

He stubbornly avoided her. "No. I _got_ there." He scoffed angrily. "Just barely in time. In time to keep him from killing you, yes, but not before he hurt you. Not before he had the chance to torment you. I- I don't know what he said, but it wasn't-" He ran a hand through his hair. How could he make her understand?

"Peter." Her voice came out harsh, though out of the corner of his eye he could tell her expression was still soft. "That wasn't your fault."

Frustration coiled inside of him. "I left you alone!" He shouted out, his hand letting go of hers and hitting the dashboard harder than necessary.

She stared at him for a seemingly endless second and then without another word, climbed out of the car.

He watched her go, part of him hoping she was mad as hell at him and another wanting to call her back.

Before he could do anything, she slammed her door shut and he followed her with his eyes as she stocked around the front of the car quickly. When she reached his door, she jerked it open, crouched down to his level and met his startled eyes. "_What_ are you talking about?"

His heart flashed an angry spark into his veins, giving him an unexpected boost of energy he used to face her head on. "I knew what you had been through. I _knew_ you were terrified for Lacey. I witnessed first hand how much Polly was messing with you, confusing you. But I still let myself get angry. I let myself get angry enough that I lost my senses, my judgment. _God_, I _knew_ Polly was still at large! I knew you were still in danger and I _still_ left you alone, just because I was upset. Just because you brought up Dani. It was so stupid- an-and juvenile!" He rubbed at his face, trying to rub his anguish away. "If you had died, Megan, because of _my_ stupidity- because of my _ego_... I _never_ would have been able to forgive myself. Never." He stared down at his knees, breathing hard, trying to ignore the burn in his eyes and the pain in his abdomen.

It seemed to take Megan a minute to realize her mouth was slightly agape, but she closed it slowly. "Peter... Wilson didn't get to me because you were _angry_. He didn't come to find me because I acted like an ass toward you or because I alienated my friend so soon after you lost someone so close to you. I had _no_ right to jump to conclusions or accuse you of anything. And I _know_ you would only ever try to _help_ Lacey. He couldn't have planned it that way. He couldn't have known _any_ of that. Wilson... God, Peter, he sent a _false cell _to **Canada** to throw off the police! He shook the US Marshals. Then he came back here and laid in wait till I was alone. You know that he would have waited as long as it took for me to be on my own- _or,_ he might have just decided to attack the two of us together! In which case he probably would have just _killed_ you outright! Before we could do anything to stop him. So don't ask me to regret that you weren't there when he attacked me!"

He was surprised by her vehemence and looked up into her eyes to see the familiar flash of defiance there.

Seeming just as shocked as he was by her outburst, she snaked her hand around his tightly, resting them both on his leg. "Peter- Sam and Bud are already feeling guilty enough about what happened as it is. You shouldn't be feeling the same. I am _not_ your responsibility, and you're not required to protect me during off hours. And..._you_ were the one that came for me. _You_ saved me, and almost died doing so. I think that officially absolves any mistakes, imagined or otherwise." Megan's mouth curled into a sad smile as she looked down at their joined hands. "I can't begin to tell you-" She made a face and swallowed.

He watched her struggle, loving the way her calm demeanor dropped again to show a rare hint of vulnerability. Something he had never seen her do with anyone else and something he had feared he had lost forever.

"I'm really happy you came back for me, Peter." She said softly. "That you weren't done with me quite yet. I can't _imagine_ never getting to see you, or Lacey, or even my mother, ever again." Another tear slid down her cheek, but she smiled up at him and didn't try to brush it away this time.

It was like a perfect crystal teardrop, sparkling there on her cheek like an ornament. Slowly, Peter reached his hand up toward her face. She closed her eyes as he ghosted over her bruised cheek, gently edging the tear away for her.

Her hand reached up to clasp his other one, squeezed softly, and then she stood. "Peter, I don't blame you for what Polly wanted to do, that would be crazy. And trust me-" She looked down at him with a gentle smile. "-you're not the first person to get mad at me when I act like a jerk."

He answered her with a weak chuckle as she walked away.


	23. Chapter 23

Author's Note- Alright, this is it you guys. Last chapter. I think I've worked out my feelings from the finale now. It's been a blast and I know you all will understand when I say I can't wait for the new season to watch what really happens. See you out there!

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close. And I never will.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Twenty-Three-

Megan's POV-

Megan exited the hospital entrance and slid the wheelchair as close to the car door as she could before setting the brakes. Peter didn't protest against her help as she levered him from the car's passenger seat. He just seemed surprised by the ease with which she helped him lift himself up. It made her grin, the accompanying feeling one that she hadn't experienced for a solid week. She was deceptively strong for her size, and luckily, she was no stranger to the best technique for helping patients from one place to another. At least her medical internship and residency was turning out to be good for _something_ in her life right now. As gently as possible, she set Peter down in the wheelchair and her heart skipped a beat. The solid way he fell into the chair sent concern lancing up through her chest. His arm slid heavily from around her waist as he slumped in on himself, head lulling slightly, obviously without the energy to do anything more. Quickly, she got behind him, gripped the handles, and pushed him through the doors into the hospital.

They managed to bypass the main desk in the lobby relatively easily and rode the elevator up to the right floor, but as they approached the nurses station near his room, a shout stopped them in their tracks.

"Peter!"

Megan looked toward the sound and saw two of Peter's sisters come running toward them. They were the younger two, she was sure, and she struggled to remember their names as they drew close.

"You found him." One said in relief, taking her hand and giving her a grateful smile.

"What the hell, Peter?" The other cursed, rounding on her seated brother, hands on the armrests and face mere inches from his.

He blinked back at her, startled into muteness.

A nurse saw them then and hurriedly delayed any further yells with one of her own. "Mr. Dunlop!" She apparently knew who he was and didn't sound pleased at all as she stormed toward them. "We have been looking for you for a solid hour!"

"Sorry." Peter groaned, not really sounding sorry at all.

Megan fought off a smile, raising a hand to cover her mouth slightly to make sure it didn't show. Sometimes, it seemed like Peter was just as stubborn as she was, but that didn't mean she needed to encourage him. Or condone him leaving the hospital. She intervened though, knowing why he had done it. "It's _my_ fault, really." Everyone turned to stare at her and she suddenly felt like a hot spotlight had shifted her way. "I should have come to see him sooner-"

"And you are?" The nurse asked.

"Dr. Megan Hunt." She answered a little more certainly, though she was worried she was going to regret stepping in on her partner's behalf.

The nurse just looked surprised. "The one they keep talking about on the news?"

Remembering that Kate had said something about fielding the press for both she and Peter, Megan nodded slowly.

"Oh- so _you're_ the Megan Mr. Dunlop has been mumbling about!" She exclaimed, as though a light bulb had finally clicked on in her head.

Taken aback, Megan glanced at Peter, who was turning a little redder as they spoke, and then nodded again. "Probably."

"'bout time you showed up here." The nurse said with a matter-of-fact bob of her head.

Not really knowing how to respond to that, Megan decided to concentrate on the patient, something she was accustomed to doing and felt far more comfortable discussing. "Peter needs a CBC and ultrasound. I noticed that he had some discoloration on his abdomen and he's torn the edges of his stitches as well."

"Peter." His sisters admonished in unison, sounding anguished.

The nurse checked the injury and nodded at Megan's assessment. "I'll take him there now, Doctor." She grabbed Peter's wheelchair and started carting him away, already telling Peter off for leaving and being off all his medication.

Peter peeked around the woman back her way, before they turned a corner out of sight.

Letting out a deep, exhausted sigh, Megan raked her hand through her hair as she felt the weight of Peter's health ease from her conscience. His doctor would take care of him now. She just hoped he hadn't caused himself any serious damage. That was something she wasn't sure that she could handle right now. It was a moment before she turned her attention to Peter's sisters still in the hallway with her, feeling unaccountably nervous.

The two women looked at her at the same time that she looked at them and they all released tired, slightly uncomfortable chuckles.

"There really is no controlling him." The seemingly older one of the two, with light brown hair, said in a comforting voice.

"Once Peter figures out that he wants something, nothing gets in his way. Even himself." The other said, rolling her eyes and sitting heavily in one of the chairs against the far wall.

"I'm sorry." Megan started. It seemed like all she'd been able to do lately was apologize. "About-"

"Oh, it's not your fault, Dr. Hunt." The older one assured. "Peter's the idiot that left the hospital."

"And I'm the idiot that let him." His sister sat forward, placing her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.

"It wasn't your fault either, Nancy."

"I let him trick me, Diane." Nancy scoffed, sitting back again. "I just... hope he's going to be okay."

They both fell silent, looking thoughtful and concerned.

"I'm sure he'll be fine." Megan offered, hoping to cheer them up. Maybe -just maybe- if she said it aloud, she'd be able to convince herself too. "Peter _was_ careful, he's relatively healthy and he was only off his anti-inflammatory's and antibiotics for less than two hours."

They both looked to her hopefully.

"It'll probably mean an extra day or two in the hospital, but- it'll be okay."

"Yeah, you see Nan, he'll be fine."

"Maybe I should have called Libby anyway though." Nancy said with a wide yawn. "Even if she handed me my own head on a platter, she could have at least stayed with Peter tonight. I'm exhausted."

"I'd do it Nan, but you know I've got to be able to wake up early tomorrow."

"Well... I could do it." Megan heard herself offering, before she had even thought it over.

The two women looked over at her in surprise.

She felt herself blushing faintly. "I mean, I'm not supposed to go back to work for a few days, so..."

"We couldn't ask you to do that, Dr. Hunt." Diane said worriedly. "You've been through a lot yourself-"

"Yeah, we- uh, we heard about everything that happened on the news and from Detective Morris." Nancy said, looking slightly sheepish. "And that boy, Ethan, also said you had to get stitches and a CAT scan?" The woman looked her up and down, eyes catching on the large visible bruise on her face. "And... no offense, but you look more exhausted than I feel."

"No, please, let me." Megan insisted. "I used to be a Neurosurgeon- I sleep better in hospitals anyway." That was actually true. She did get better sleep in hospitals than she ever got in her bed, and now that she was here, she really didn't want to leave Peter's side.

Diane gave her a skeptical look, but after another wide yawn, Nancy was already nodding her head. "Okay. Thanks. Just for tonight." Silence settled over them. Diane took a seat next to her younger sister tiredly and the two women held hands as they all waited for the results of Peter's tests. Megan moved closer to the wall and leaned against it, her lack of sleep the past two night catching up with her. Her limbs felt heavy with exhaustion, and she had to fight off falling asleep more than once as the minutes ticked by.

When the nurse finally came around the corner pushing Peter in his wheelchair and with a full IV bag hooked back in his arm, Megan at last let herself breathe in normally again.

"His Complete Blood Count came back pretty normal and the ultrasound showed no signs of internal bleeding." The woman stated happily to them.

Peter grimaced apologetically.

The two sisters shared almost identical smiles of relief.

Megan did her best to echo them but it felt faint in comparison. "I'd say the discoloration is due to swelling then?" She summized, putting a hand on the wheelchair and crouching down beside Peter's right arm. Though hesitant to touch him, she still wanted to be closer.

"That's what the doc said." The nurse confirmed. "The strain didn't help either of course. We got him back on the IV medication though, which should take down the swelling and dispel the odd discoloring. This has his antibiotics as well, though a higher dosage since he's been without it and I've administered a dose of painkillers."

"Which is already starting to work. I'm kinda fading fast here." Peter finished for the nurse a little groggily, smiling lightly at Megan.

"And no wonder, all that gallivanting around today." The nurse admonished.

The man just grinned sheepishly at them all. He was a shade healthier, Megan noticed, glad his skin was no longer so horribly pale. Unconsciously, she slid her hand onto his shoulder, where the gown he had been changed into had slipped down enough that she could touch his skin. Just to assure herself she was imagining it. Goosebumps appeared under her fingertips and she tried to ignore the flush of heat in his skin. It was only natural that he would spike a bit of a fever. That's all it was. She shifted a little to look at him from another angle and grimaced as her bruised right hip protested her position.

It wasn't a surprise that Peter noticed. "Megan? You okay?" His eyes were suddenly more alert, looking her over carefully as though he'd be able to see through her concealing clothes.

She gave him a weak smile, ignoring his sister's curios looks. "Yes Peter, just still a little sore."

Her words didn't dispel the troubled look from his features.

The nurse reached down and took her hand gently, examining it in concern. Megan let her look over the stitches for a moment before slowly pulling away and returning her hand to Peter's shoulder. Irrationally, now that she had touched him, she didn't want to let him go. Maybe this was why she had hesitated in the first place. He still looked concerned, so she slid her hand down to his forearm and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"Peter, Megan's volunteered to stay with you tonight, is that alright?" Diane said, placing a gentle hand against his other arm.

He glanced over at Megan questioningly and she couldn't help but flush a little as she looked away.

"Yeah, that's fine."

She shared a fleeting smile with Peter's sisters as they departed, but she didn't really hear what they were saying. A ringing had started up in her ears, blocking out the rest of her hearing. A warmth appeared in the pit of her stomach as she thought about Peter's quick acceptance of her company. Perhaps he really had meant what he said. Maybe he didn't blame her for what had happened to him. Slowly, she followed as the nurse pushed Peter to his rooms and helped as much as she could while the two worked together to pull him out of the wheelchair and into the bed. She came around to the left side of the hospital bed to help tug the sheets and blanket around his slightly shaking frame. He really did look terribly exhausted.

The nurse checked the IV and the monitors once more before slipping from the room, leaving the two of them alone again.

Fidgeting slightly, Megan pulled the sheet up near Peter's chin and he took it from her, their hands brushing against each other lightly. A small, electrical charge of warmth spread through her at the touch and she hurriedly drew back her hands.

Peter was watching her, smiling softly at her, letting the comfortable silence settle. By the time he spoke, it startled her. "I'm-sorry Megan."

She smiled, chuckling a little at his slight slur. "Yeah, you've said that already Peter." Her answer was filled with an affection she couldn't remove even if she wanted to. She grinned into his dropping eyes as she pulled the blanket all the way up near his chin to join the sheet. He must be more effected by the painkillers than she had thought if he was already far gone enough to have forgotten their conversation in her car. It was definitely one she wasn't going to forget for a long time.

"I mean f-for what I said."

The good feeling inside of her vanished, stripped away by the memory of their earlier argument in her office. Her hands started to tingle and she flexed them in irritation, fiddling with the edge of his blanket.

Despite his fading attention, Peter must have seen the drop in her features. He caught her moving hands and put gentle pressure on them, refusing to let go.

She was surprised as his grip settled in hers. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel any pain coming from her hand, but only more gentle warmth; a feeling she had grown unused to except in the company of Lacey. It was a feeling of being wanted. Of being loved. She let herself sink into the sensation a little, trying not to let the echo of his harsh words impede on her solace.

"I didn't mean it. You have to know... I don't give up." He was so earnest, trying to get her to understand, but his words were starting to run together more noticeably. "I'-m not done wi-th you. I'll ne-ver be done lo-oking out fer y-ou, M-Meg-an."

The words struck right to her heart, and as armored as it had become, there was no defense for Peter's sentiment. For the third time in the space of an hour, she had to fight her tears away again. Smiling more firmly, she reached up and softly carded one hand through his hair, watching amused as his eyes fluttered heavily. "Hush now, Peter. For once, let me look out for _you_."

There was only a soft hum in response from him as his eyes slipped closed at last.

Peering around, she spotted the armchair nearby and pulled it as close to the bed as it would fit. She'd need somewhere to sleep, and with Peter right there next to her, she had a feeling tonight was actually going to be a good night.

When she moved though, Peter started a little, grip tightening almost painfully on her hand. He looked up at her with exhaustion and panic swimming in his eyes.

"Hey." She hurried to reassure him.

"Y-you gonna behere when I wake up?" His voice was all sleepy concern.

That made her grin again, especially when he couldn't keep his eyes open and they inevitably shut again. Carefully, she leaned forward to put her lips near his ear. "You're okay Peter." Her voice was a whisper. "I've got you." She placed a soft kiss to his temple.

His lips quirked slightly in a smile, but he didn't otherwise stir, even as she settled into the armchair, still holding his hand in hers.

About to close her eyes and sleep, Megan blinked. The glare from the window suddenly made her have to squint. She looked out at the surrounding world for what felt like the first time since that night at the hospital, when the heavens had wept so strongly. The top of the tree outside was swaying gently in a light breeze. The sky was lit with bright sunlight and the clouds were finally letting the sun through even as they thinned and at last, dissipated.

The End


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